A Man's Romance
by Adali
Summary: Or 'Real Life Fiction'. As a romance writer, Shigure can always count on those around him for inspiration. Various pairing, rated from 'hints of romance' up.
1. The MultiTalented Author

**The Multi-Talented Author**

Shigure liked to reflect, sometimes, on what would happen if Akito ever found out how he supported himself. Even with his allowance as one of the Jyunishi, he couldn't make enough writing books to support himself and all three of his rambunctious, hungry, destructive charges (well, his two cousins who fit that description, plus the lovely Tohru-kun). There simply wasn't as big a market for _literature _as Akito seemed ready to believe there was, whenever Shigure mentioned how well his books were selling. His novels were selling well, granted; he'd heard a rumor that a couple of literature courses in high schools now used them as material. He hoped it was true - he fancied them rather better than much of what he had read in high school, and forcing a hundred students to buy his book helped sales enormously.

Even so, it was the rare author whose literary talent could put food on the table and fix the door that people just kept getting thrown through (although not everyone might have that particular problem). A writer with other skills was much more likely to capture the spotlight, the multi-book series contract, and the top of the bestseller list for weeks in a row. Shigure was one who had a whole host of talents to draw on, and a never-ending wellspring of inspiration, the tangible evidence of which was an editor who stayed with him no matter what he put her through and enough money to live far away from the Sohma main house.

Although really, now it occurred to him, he wasn't entirely sure why Mit-chan put up with him. He had a guess, but even he wasn't conceited enough to believe that she put up with it all just to be the first to read his books. Surely not. She could have joined the fan club (with weekly updates on his work, which were made up by people who had never met him), or just put her name down at a bookstore to be notified when a new one was coming out if she wanted to get a copy right away. No sense being driven close to suicide at least once a month just for a seedy romance.

Even if the characters were gorgeous and wonderfully fleshed out.

Even if the settings were amazing, and so poetically described that the reader could hear the birds singing in the trees, even on a dark and lonely winter night.

Even if the plots were superb, with intricacies and twists that could only come from the mind of a true genius.

After all, those were the things that people might look for in a literary novel, and he had the sales figures to indicate that those weren't doing nearly as well as his… ah… other works. Plot and character development held no interest for anyone outside of a literature class and, if he remembered right, little more for the poor students of those classes. Which left...

Mit-chan couldn't possibly be putting up with him because of the romantic episodes in those books. She was too logical, too organized, too proper (except when he tortured her by with-holding a manuscript that was due to be printed the next day, claiming he couldn't remember where he left it).

Even if he would be (a close) second to declare those episodes extremely well-written (Aya declared them so even before Shigure had written them, making him the first). Even if _Hatori _had once required a rather brisk walk through the snow to recover after proof-reading one of Shigure's early books. Even if they really were _that good_… surely not.

But if he ever caught a hint that maybe, just maybe, Mit-chan put up with him for any reason other than a large masochistic streak, well… it would be fun, in any case.

At any rate, it would no him no good to let Akito find out about those books. Aya and Ha-san knew about them, of course, as did many of the younger cousins (although even Momiji wouldn't admit to reading one, no matter how much Shigure teased them all). But Akito was a different story.

It wasn't that there was anything wrong with it, per se. It was just that those books were Shigure's guilty hobby, his way of stealing cookies from under the nose of a watchful (and violently controlling) mother. The mother might not mind him snacking right before dinner, but cookies always tasted better when they had been cleverly misappropriated. Ha-san had rolled his eyes when Shigure had offered that analogy for why he didn't just tell Akito, since no one actually cared anyway. Aya had stood dramatically, nearly upsetting the tea things, to declaim Shigure's great courage, and cleverness, and beautifully chosen the analogy was before the speech began to extol Aya's own virtues.

It had lasted until Shigure had, cleverly in his opinion, asked for Aya's opinion on a brotherly-love segment he was thinking of for his next book. Aya had listened, enraptured, as Shigure sketched out a hazy idea involving two beautiful estranged brothers being reunited, giving the elder a chance to help his dear little brother win over his true love. Aya's eternal monologue soon turned to musings on his relationship with Yuki, how they had begun to understand each other better and create beautiful memories, how Yuki was developing a great respect and admiration for his older brother, and how 'would Gure-kun please not give Aya black hair in this one', especially if he meant to dress him in red, since it clashed with his eyes and wasn't at all in keeping with the image he strived to create.

Ha-san had rolled his eyes when Shigure grabbed one of his many notebooks and started taking notes, but hadn't said anything. Even if Ha-san thought he was being dumb, and even if Aya whined that the characters based on him didn't live up to his true greatness, they both knew how important this sort of thing was for Shigure's work. The curse aside, the Jyunishi were the greatest source of inspiration a romance writer could ask for. They had it all: money, stunning good looks, deep friendships, ancient rivalries and, aside from the three serene and mature Mabudachi Trio, boatloads of teenage angst. If Shigure had simply written down what happened in his house each day (changing the character's names, of course, and omitting the parts where various members of the household turned into animals) he could have sold it as a first rate teenage romance.

Not that he did.

Well, not very often, anyway. But they were always the seed, and when a phrase, a look, a stammering denial or an angry exclamation took root in the fertile soil of his imagination, the story that blossomed truly was fruitful. He thought it was poetic how, when Yuki threw Kyo threw the door, the episode would eventually make its way into a book that would pay for that very same door to be fixed, just so Kagura could throw Kyo through it.

He sometimes thought about telling them. Someday he even might, when they were no longer at an age where they might be inclined to throw _him _through that dratted door. That day was coming closer; he could feel it.

Already they had begun to grow up and learn a little of what love was. Hadn't he seen the shy smiles, the blushes, the hesitant comments that could give rise to either (and then transformed all of that into some good, solid smut of a caliber that they couldn't begin to appreciate in his latest novel)? Didn't Yuki and Kyo each have one of his books, well-thumbed and securely hidden where they thought he wouldn't know about it?

Still, it would be a few years before they were ready to admit to reading those books, by which time the thin paperbacks would have disintegrated from being stored under loose shingles and behind watering cans. It would be a few years after that before Kyo was ready to hear that the lovely, pure-hearted peasant girl he had fallen in love with was based on Tohru, and that Yuki had provided the inspiration for her love interest, the noble, yet tragic, samurai that Kyo so admired. Around that time, Yuki would be ready to learn that the heroine of his gang-war romance had grown from the terrifying Uo-chan, and that the two gang leaders that competed for her heart and possession of the city, who so fascinated the boy, came from Kyo and Hatsuharu.

Yeah, he mused, it would be a few years before they were ready to hear all that. And Akito would never be ready to hear about _any _of those stories. What if the Clan head actually enjoyed them? What if Akito wanted to appear in one of Shigure's ridiculous, smutty books instead of just being prime inspiration for deep introspective novels? If that happened, Shigure thought, he might have to seriously consider retirement.

* * *

_Huh... that went on a lot longer than I planned for it to. I was hoping to keep all parts under a thousand words, just because I tend to ramble on endlessly elsewise (it's actually 1500). Anyway, this is actually just an introduction; my plan right now is for the rest of the 'story' to be a series of not-really-connected romances between for any Fruits Basket pairing that catches my fancy. Hehe, I kinda hid my explanation of how I plan to do it in here: it doesn't matter if it's totally unrealistic, Shigure will use their 'personalities as inspiration'. I want to try is with a bunch of different styles, based on how feasible I think a pairing/situation actually is, compared to how it would work in a romance novel._

_Whether it works out or not, I can promise no cliffies ('cause they aren't sequentially building to an overall plot!) that last a year because of my attention span and work ethic, or lack thereof (looks guiltily towards Harry Potter fanfics)._

_Also, even though I feel really kinda cheap saying 'give me suggestions,' if there's a pairing you'd like to see (either 'cause it's a fave, or you can't find it anywhere, or whatever), let me know. I tend to write challenge fics way faster than anything else, 'cause they inspire me. That said, don't feel obligated: new stuff will come out regardless of feedback. I already have a number of sections planned, and the squirrels that live in my roof are always willing to offer me inspiration. I want to stress that this is not one of those fics that is written expressly to what the readers dictate in the hopes of garnering reviews - I'm just offering another avenue for feedback._

_ I think that's about it... this note is plenty long enough as it is. Cheers Adali  
_


	2. The Werewolf and the Maiden

**The Werewolf and the Maiden**

"It's so sad," Tohru said quietly. Judging by the look on her face, she truly had found the story heart-wrenching. No one could fake the dark eyes, the trembling lips, the tense posture that came of being so deeply moved. That look, as innocence faced the dark horrors of life, was beyond beautiful.

"My flower, you understand so well!" Shigure cried, reaching over to cradle her face in his hands. He didn't quite make it, his hands falling away from Tohru as his two younger cousins beat him soundly into the tatami mat.

"Stupid, perverted…" Kyo didn't seem able to properly express his disgust over his cousin. Neither did Yuki, for all he was normally more eloquent than his cousin. If Aya had been here, he would have been able to express his thoughts some way besides stomping on Shigure's head. Then again, Aya would have appreciated the story, so the point was moot.

"But… but it was a lovely story," Tohru, the flower of innocence, the maid of beauty, said uncertainly, not understanding what had upset the two Sohma boys. It had been a sad story about love - surely there hadn't been anything in it that would drive them to violence. She was sniffling a bit after being so moved. "The poor girl…"

Maybe it had been foolish to read that particular story to the three teens. On the other hand, he had written it for them, just to see what kind of a rise he could get out of the fiery Kyo and, more importantly, the normally reserved Yuki. He had known Tohru would love the story and empathize with the characters, just as the boys would catch the darker suggestions in the story. Really, they were much too easy to predict.

There was Tohru, crying for the young girl and her werewolf love, the tragic lovers that could neither be together nor appreciate the same things. The color-blind wolf man lived in the night, in a world where everything was a shade of grey. Colorblind, he would never be able to appreciate the subtle colors of the girl's kimono, or the luxuriant shades of her hair, or the soft hues of the cherry blossoms in spring. In turn, the girl would never know the tapestry of smells that colored the wolf's world more richly than any pigment ever could.

He had considered making the girl's love into a dog-man, but even Tohru might not have missed that parallel. In any case, if he had been any more overt, the two boys might have actually tried to hurt him. As it was, they had been pushed right to the line, but not over, just has Shigure had intended.

Time to drive the point home. "Oh, my flower, come to my arms!" he cried dramatically, escaping the wrath of his younger cousins to try and embrace the girl. With howls of rage, the two boys tackled him from behind. Really, they were so much fun to tease.

* * *

_Alright, that one was really short and lacked any real romantic development, mostly because I find Shigure/Tohru just too ridiculous to write properly. As much as I love him, Gure's too much of a lecherous old man for someone like Tohru. Longer one to come, I promise. Next up, Yuki/Haru._


	3. SilverTongued

_Edit (Sept 20/07): Gah! The italics didn't show up! How did I not notice this before? Stupid thing._**  
**

* * *

**Silver-Tongued**

"I really do love you." _Dark, liquid eyes stare at the boy, willing him to understand the truth of the words._

"Stop it. What if someone actually believes you?" _The words are calm, but there's a hint of uncertainty under them. He's too composed to stammer, but the flickering of his eyelids gives him away._

"But it's true." _The distance between them closes, but not enough so that they touch. Though there's still a hair's space between them, each can feel the warmth of the other's body against their own, as real as a touch. The breath of the words has stirred the silky hair, so that it brushes the boy's cheek like a caress._ "I don't mind if they know."

"You…"

"Are you scared?" _There's heat in the words, the rich warmth of embers, with only a trace of cool amusement to stop a blazing flame from emerging. A hand rises slowly, moving to cradle the boy's face. His vision is filled with those dark eyes, but still he's aware of every inch of its movement, trailing up his side without touching him. If contact is made, the fire of those words will be lost in the blaze that will follow._

_The hand hovers over his cheek, the hesitation in making contact the first indication of uncertainty. They're so close, not touching but able to feel every inch of the other's body. Their eyes do not waver from one another's, and he realizes that he's already lost in the depth's of the other's eyes. He can feel the smile that spreads on those lips, scant inches from his own, when this revelation is written on his face._

"You're an idiot," Yuki says dryly, slapping Hatsuharu's hand away in irritation. Haru's grin is amused, though his humor overlays a softness that most don't realize he possesses. "I don't see why you have to say things like that every time you see me."

Haru shrugs. "It's true." His tone is nonchalant, relaxed. Now that there's no chance of flustering Yuki, he might as well annoy the other boy. _It's not quite the same, but it will give him a chance to see those bright eyes and flushed cheeks, those clear indications that he has an effect on the older boy. It's like a drug; the knowledge that he can put that expression on the other boy's face makes him want to do it again. He wants to show him how he feels, not just tell him. He knows that, if he just has that chance to show him how much he loves him, the older boy will know that they belong together even in the depths of his soul, just as he does._

"Whatever. What are you doing over here again, anyway?"

"I missed you so much…"

"You were hungry, and thought Honda-san would feed you."

For a second, Haru's smirk slips into a genuine grin, cheerful and unguarded. "Maybe," he admits. "Or maybe I…"

"Haven't you given him enough material for one day?" Yuki asks crossly. Lounging in a corner, Shigure feels the strength of his cousin's glare boring into him. He looks up, trying for his most innocent, yet still perverted, smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The grin that always has Tohru believing the boys are falsely accusing him does nothing to fool Yuki. The boy is way too cynical to fall for that, but that just means he has to be manipulated other ways. It's amusing, and for all his laziness Shigure will never turn down a challenge when it comes to creatively torturing one of his little cousins. Besides, once you know the right buttons, even Yuki's a pushover. "I was just thinking how much you two remind me of Aya when we were younger. He denied it too, but…"

He doesn't even have to finish. Brilliantly red, Yuki storms out of the room, as angry at being compared to his brother as he was disgusted by Shigure's perversion. Haru shoots the older man an amused glance before following the other boy into the kitchen.

It would be nice if he could actually get material from the pair of them, Shigure reflects. With their personalities and relationship, he would hardly have to do anything except package it up to write a best-seller. There have been a few times, like today, when he has considered doing just that. It was just that, no matter how he approaches it, he keeps running up against the problem of Haru's way of speaking.

When Shigure writes his romances, he tries for natural-sounding dialogue. No one wanted the corny drivel that is stereotypically spouted by the characters of such books, on the premise that no one in real life talks like that. Except that Haru does. Regrettably, that argument carries no weight with Mit-chan. His readers won't believe it either, even if they swallow all his lies with as much conviction as dear, innocent Tohru-kun.

It really is a pity to let this sort of material go to waste. Well, not entirely: he can't consider it a waste so long as he gets such reactions from his cousins every time they notice the perverted subtext he's adding is written all over his face.

* * *

_Italics are, incidentally, Shigure's voice-over what'cha'ma call it. Narration thingy. I'm not sure how much he's exaggerating; I'll let you decide. First post had tense change half-way through - think I've gotten rid of that now, which will hopefully make for easier reading _

_Next up, Hatori and Ayame._ _(Thankees to cheshirejin for the pairing.)_


	4. Schoolboys

**Schoolboys**

On any given day, his two best friends were a study in juxtaposition, complete opposites that nonetheless complimented each other perfectly. Hatori was cold, quiet, composed, as reserved as Aya was flamboyantly exuberant. While Hatori's dark hair was short, with that slightly ragged look that suggested he only paid attention to it when it got in his way, Aya's silver hair was long and perfectly groomed.

There were similarities too, of course. They were the same height, with the light builds and fine features that they shared with Shigure. Despite the urban legend, Shigure didn't really believe that the Sohma's had a gene for good looks - it was just that the genes they tended to share were the ones people thought were beautiful. That was to say, it wasn't the gene's fault, but people's, and Shigure had always felt more comfortable blaming people than random chance.

For instance, this paper he was working on. Some people might think it chance that Yoshikawa-sensei and Hidechi-sensei had each assigned a major paper to be due the same day. Those were the kind of people who didn't realize that Yoshikawa and Hidechi played tennis together on Thursday evenings, and that they spent most of that time complaining to each other about class 2-B; the same 2-B that now had a pair of grueling essays to write.

"Ha-kun, I'm bored," Shigure whined, spinning his chair so he could face his cousin. They were in Aya's room tonight, since people tended to come knocking on Hatori's door with inane questions about this or that assignment, and the mess had finally conquered Shigure's room, making it inhabitable.

Hatori peered over the top of his book at his friend. "I'm surprised. You've been working for almost two hours." With a start, Shigure glanced at the clock, only to find that it was as Hatori had said. "See what happens when you apply yourself?" he teased gently, closing his book.

"Stinking know-it-all," Shigure retorted, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Where's… oh." He had been working at the desk, and Hatori was lounged on the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the deep red sheets. Now that Shigure had located their wayward third member, he was amazed he hadn't noticed where Aya was from the start.

Aya was a smart kid, if not always the most dedicated student. His short attention span made the latter a given, and the former necessary for him to make any sort of progress in school. Usually it took a firm command from Hatori for the energetic boy to calm down enough for them to get any work done in these study sessions. Even then, the quiet generally only lasted half an hour before something that absolutely had to be shared popped into Aya's head. No wonder, then, that Shigure had missed the passage of time without Aya's unique form of time marking.

"I didn't realize he was so tired," he said, lowering his voice so as not to disturb his sleeping friend.

Hatori shrugged indifferently, although Shigure didn't miss the affectionate glance he directed towards the third boy. "He puts a lot of energy into those play rehearsals."

"He really enjoys it."

"It helps that he's playing opposite you. You know he'd never make a decent heroine for any of the others."

Shigure couldn't fight back the grin that split his face. "What you mean is, I'm the only one gregarious enough not to be completely upstaged."

"Something like that." Shigure didn't miss the slight roll of Hatori's eyes at the reference to the ridiculous pantomime that was their daily rehearsals. Hatori had refused both acting parts and the director's role, opting instead to control the play and its energetic leads from his shadowy throne as the Assistant Director.

Shigure reached behind him and closed his book. "I think I'm ready for a break. I'm going to go get some juice." He couldn't keep the amusement from his face when he looked at Hatori. Aya was curled with his head in the other boy's lap, one hand bunched in the fabric of Hatori's trousers. Aya's leg was wrapped securely around Hatori's, pinning the other boy in place. Shigure didn't think Hatori noticed how his free hand rested gently on Aya's head, occasionally stroking the soft silver hair. "Want me to grab you some?" he offered.

"Pineapple," Hatori agreed, ignoring the disgusted look that flitted across Shigure's face at the mention of the hated juice.

As he headed through the quiet dorms towards the vending machine, Shigure's hands itched to pull out his notebook and scribble down some of the scene he had just left. As a writer with his first book already on its way to print, he was always looking for new material to use in his stories. He squashed the urge ruthlessly. It wasn't that he thought Ha-kun or Aya would mind seeing themselves reflected in print; Aya, at least, would enjoy the experience immensely, the more so because it was his dear Gure-kun who had written it.

If he had to give a reason for his reluctance, Shigure would have had to say that he wouldn't write about it because it was too personal a moment to be written into a romance. He had plenty of romance in his soul to share with his readers (of which there would one day be many, he was certain), so he would keep this little piece for himself.

* * *

_Many many thanks for all reviews! Having just about reached the end of the manga, I find myself disappointed by the affirmation of canon pairings. As good as they are, it's somehow more fun when I can pick and choose without thinking 'yes, but according to canon...' Especially since I'm trying to keep everyone in character. Ah, well... am in a writing slump right now, so I'm contented myself with editing the backlog of scribbles to get them ready for posting until such a time as I have some fresh content. Sigh By that point, I'll probably be bogged down with school work again._

_In other news, Kazuma and Hanajima are up next._


	5. Romantically Impossible

**Romantically Impossible**

Boring, boring, _boring!_ It was so infuriatingly boring that not even Aya could have pulled romance out of this situation. With a frustrated sigh, Shigure turned his attention back to the blank page of his notebook, hoping that it might offer some of the inspiration that his guests failed to. _Damn it. _He had been so sure it would work, too.

But no. When the kids had come home, Kazuma had only glanced up from his tea. His curious glaze had been equally welcoming for all of the kids, until it latched onto his adopted son with genuine interest and he had asked after the boy's day. It was disappointing, because Shigure had expected some sort of reaction from at least one of them.

The girl had greeted him politely, if coolly, as she always did, and shown absolutely no interest in Kazuma's presence. Even the scary Yankee had reacted more when she saw the karate teacher, making some rude comment designed to set off Kyo's temper. It made Shigure want to pound his fists in frustration, but he settled for taking a polite sip of his tea instead.

Since then, Kazuma had politely alternated talking to Kyo and Shigure, and the girl had been off with Tohru, studying upstairs. _Damn. _It had seemed too good to be true when it first occurred to him, so perhaps it should come as no surprise that nothing would come of it. Each was the perfect framework for an interesting character in a romance, after all: Kazuma was polite, quiet, and understanding, with surprising strength of both character and body; Hana-chan was dark and strange, with an unusual quality that set teeth on edge even as it bewitched. He could easily see Kazuma as a wise hermit, or a chivalrous knight, or maybe a particularly noble samurai. Whatever the role, the character would be powerful yet gentle, with an sense of honor that would help to move the plot along nicely. Hana-chan was well suited to being a witch, or a fortune-teller, or any of those other things he suspected she might be anyway. Of course, it would be her undying loyalty and masterful understanding of those around her which would ultimately aid in the resolution of the conflict.

The problem was, he couldn't see any way to bring their characters together. There was hope for the knight and the witch, but that threatened to be rather Arthurian and not at all in the vein of Shigure's regular work. He had hoped that seeing the two of them together would provide some impetus for his flagging imagination, but that idea had been as much a failure as everything else connected to this project.

He heard the girls come back downstairs and go into the kitchen, the blond Yankee's voice coming clearly through the walls, asking about snacks. Tohru's head poked into the living room a minute later, asking if they would like anything. "Some of whatever you're making, Tohru-kun," Shigure said. He wouldn't risk calling her his flower or his bride right now, not when Uo-chan or Hana-chan might come after him, instead of just his two idiot cousins. Those two really were scary when they were determined to protect Tohru.

A thought occurred to Shigure, and he had to fight back the grin that followed on its heels. Perhaps there was hope for this project after all. He'd have to set it up properly, though.

With an overly-dramatic sigh, he closed his notebook and set it on the table before taking a sip of tea in what he hoped was a dejected fashion. "Is something the matter, Shigure-san?" Kazuma asked, just as the girls came into the room with the snacks. _Perfect_.

He thought he heard Hana-chan muttering to herself. "… amused… excited… plotting something, I'm sure…" Damn, he'd forgotten about her denpa. Still, what he'd caught of her tone didn't make it seem like she would try to stop him, so perhaps there was a chance this would still work.

"I'm sorry, Kazuma-san. It's nothing to concern yourself with. Just my latest novel."

His sensitive ears picked up something that sounded like "… dirty, no-good, perverted son of a…" from where Kyo was lounging in the corner. Trust Kyo to know which kind of novel he meant. Of course, he could only know how perverted those books were if he read them, a little fact that Shigure hadn't yet seen fit to mention to the boy; he was saving it for the time when it would cause the greatest embarrassment for his cousin. Perhaps when the dense kid finally got around to asking some poor girl out.

"I'm just having trouble with inspiration at the moment," Shigure sighed. "Normally it's not a problem, with three teenagers in the house - " cue apologetic smile to Tohru - "but they aren't even whining about their lack of love lives right now, so I'm a bit stuck." Well it wasn't a… alright then, it really was a complete lie. There was _always _a source of inspiration when it came to his three charges. It was just that he was so married to this idea of a pair of characters based of Kazuma and Hana-chan that right now he couldn't think of anything else.

"Ah…" Shigure had to remind himself that Kazuma was not Aya, and so would not be instantly bursting with suggestions.

"How about you, Hanajima-kun?" he asked, turning to the girl. She was kneeling next to Kazuma - _yes, progress! _- focusing her attention on the snacks Tohru had laid out.

The look the girl gave him made it seem as though she had read his thoughts and knew exactly where this conversation was going. Oddly, she didn't seem to object to it, which made Shigure begin to worry. "Romance…" she said in that soft, drifting voice. "What do you have in mind?"

Shigure's laugh sounded forced even to himself. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't pry. I mean, I think I know how Tohru-kun would go about it, or that idiot in the corner - " Kyo hissed - "but what would you do if you were, I don't know, interested in a guy?"

Distantly, Shigure noticed Tohru hurrying to Kyo's corner, trying to calm the vexed boy before he started shouting. His main attention was on Hana-chan as she locked eyes with him. The calm, knowing look in her eyes was definitely scary, and Shigure was beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all. He thought a slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I see." She turned to Kazuma, who returned her look with one of mild curiosity.

The girl was staring at the man, and Shigure wasn't sure if he imagined the rippling of the air around them, as though the atmosphere was filled with strange electrical waves. In any case, Hana-chan now had the karate instructor's full attention. "Kiss me," she told him, her voice oddly deep and sultry. Shigure hadn't thought that a high school girl would be capable of such a tone, although that had never stopped him fantasizing about it. Still, when if came to Hana-chan, he'd forgo that voice in favor of someone who didn't scare him quite so much.

"Ah, I… you're a lot…" Kazuma muttered, throwing in a few words like 'adult' and 'underage' and 'too old.' For some reason, Kyo's angry protests from the background weren't much louder. It was almost like he had a hand over his mouth, while Tohru talked to him quietly about not interfering.

The intensity of Hana-chan's stare didn't slacken. "Kiss me," she repeated.

"Er…" Looking helpless, Kazuma finally gave up the battle and leaned forward to give Hana-chan a quick, soft kiss on the cheek. When he pulled away, the man was bright red, as though he was the innocent sixteen year old and Hana-chan an experienced older woman, instead of the other way around.

Hana-chan, for her part, looked serene and composed. "Is that what you were wondering?"

"Ah, yeah." Before the scene and all the wonderful possibilities it had produced could escape, Shigure grabbed his notebook and pen and started scribbling furiously. Distantly, he was aware of the Uo-chan talking heatedly to Hana-chan in a low voice, while Kazuma tried to hide his embarrassment by finishing his tea. Tohru returned with her 'pet cat,' which tried to scratch Hana-chan and yowled angrily at both Kazuma and Shigure.

Shigure made a mental note to tease Kyo later about taking advantage of the situation to try and get a kiss of his own, and also to have the door open so it wouldn't be damaged when Kyo threw him across the room for it.

* * *

_I have to say, my plan for the length of each segment has been shot all to hell. This one, too, is close to 1500 words, rather than the planned 1000 (because, as previously stated, I tend to ramble on). From now on, I shall limit myself to 2000 words, in the hopes that I'll actually be able to pull it off._

_In other news, having almost finished the manga has sapped me of inspiration. Nothing kills creativity like canon, I swear. Plus school, being what it is, has forcefully imposed a writers block on me. What all this whining means is that I'm only one and a half pieces ahead of the posting, where I had hoped to be at least three. (It's not that I'm holding the parts hostage, except maybe from myself. If I want to post, I need the next one ready, so I can tell you what the pairing will be. The hope is that it will help inspire me... it only sort of works.)_

_ Anyway, next up is Ayame and Shigure.  
_


	6. Romance, Technically

It's been forever. _Forever!_ I couldn't get the next one done, so this one didn't go up, and _arg... _just so frustrating._  
_

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**Romance, Technically**_  
_

_It really was beautiful, Shigure reflected, as he pulled the book from its hiding place on the shelf. He had been struck by it when Aya had first given it to him, but hadn't thought much more of it at the time. That had been during the period when it seemed that everything Aya touched had gained an extra gloss of beauty, as though it was reflecting the light that poured out of the silver-haired man. He had been only a boy then, in truth, however much they had liked to think of themselves as men._

_Shigure smiled at the delicate dried flowers on the cover, tastefully traced around with lines of glitter, so that the eye was fooled, just for a second, into seeing a fresh flower with dew still on its petals. Aya had waved aside questions of how long the cover alone had taken him to make, instead launching into a speech on how the subtle blues of the paper were designed to compliment his eyes in the photographs and thus deftly distracting Shigure from his original question. Opening the book to the first page and its photo of the three of them, Shigure had to admit that Aya had been right about the color scheme._

_Then again, he was always right about that sort of thing. Whatever future the Sohma house had mapped out for Aya at that point, to Shigure the other boy's path had been obvious. In a world full of dark sadness and hurt, Aya existed to bring light and beauty - and with them, hope. A classmate had once likened Aya to a diamond in a dunghill, never mind that he was mixing his metaphors atrociously. It would have been more accurate to call Aya a diamond in a darkened mine, set so that whenever a wandering beam of light touched him, it was reflected and enhance, brightening the darkness all around: Aya sparkled._

_Shigure turned each page delicately, marveling as much at the carefully stored memories as the skill that had preserved them on the pages. There was Hatori, seeming dark despite his pale skin and tennis whites. Here, Shigure grinned cheekily from under a bowl of pasta that had been overturned on his head by an angry classmate, unconcerned by the sauce dribbling down his cheek. And there, a glamour shot of Aya from the school play, looking more beautiful than any mortal had a right to._

_Shigure paused at one picture, and touched its edge carefully with one finger. "Sure brings back memories," he murmured, although there wasn't anyone around to hear._

"Isn't it marvelous, Gure-kun?" Aya spun towards him, his hair and the train of his dress tracing elegant, complimentary circles through the air. Shigure grabbed him on instinct, afraid his friend would bowl him over if he wasn't braced. But Aya kept spinning, coming to a stop only when Shigure's arms were wrapped tightly around him. Aya leaned back a little, giving him a patented a Lower Angle #3 look. How many times had he seen his cousin practice that look in front of a mirror, only to shake his head in disappointment at not achieving quite the effect he wanted? Before him now was the final result of all that effort, and Shigure would be the first to admit it was breathtaking. Even knowing it was Aya didn't stop the lurch of his heart at having something so beautiful in his arms.

"Aya, my love, will you…?"

"Oh Gure-sama, I couldn't possibly." The turn of the head, the faint blush against porcelain skin, the breathless note in his voice, all were well rehearsed, leading up to this masterful performance by the genius of romance that was Ayame. When Aya was like this, it didn't matter that he was a boy: perhaps that even added to the appeal. All that mattered was how beautiful and desirable he was.

Around the crowded corridor, Shigure heard a few sharp intakes of breath, felt the tension as the collective attention was focused on the two of them. Somewhere to his left, there was a low moan, sharply cut off as the young man caught himself and tried to pretend nonchalance. He needn't have bothered: there wasn't a boy there that didn't know how desirable Aya was.

There was a moment in which the world seemed utterly still, and all Shigure could hear was his own heartbeat and Aya's shallow, hitching breath. Then something changed in his cousin, and the lipid eyes started to sparkle again. Ayame sprang from his arms with practiced ease, meeting Shigure's devilish grin with one of his own as they flashed each other a thumbs-up.

"Nice!" They exclaimed together, as though they had just caught a look at Mizura-senpai's panties instead of being the focus of a spectacle that would spawn any number of fantasies in the dorms tonight. This was probably even better, anyway. They had realized after first year that there was something depressing about a woman that needed to wear a short skirt in an all-boys boarding school to make herself feel desirable. Shigure wasn't sure what it meant that she did that and still couldn't compete with Aya.

Catching sight of Hatori making his way down the corridor, Aya grabbed Shigure's arm and pulled him along in the opposite direction. Hatori might put up with their ridiculous displays when they were alone, but he didn't approve of them showing off in the middle of the school. Shigure wasn't sure if the disapproval stemmed from embarrassment at being related to the two of them, or concern over what they were doing to the libidos of the rest of the school. He had always been just a bit too afraid to ask.

"What do you think?" Aya asked quietly as he pulled Shigure towards the room where the handicrafts club met. "I'm still not sure about that look."

Remembering how his heart had raced at that expression, Shigure was quick to reassure him. "It was perfect, Aya." His cousin still looked a bit incredulous. "Really, it was…"

Aya turned quickly, pulling himself close to Shigure, his hand coming up to cradle the side of Shigure's face as he once again delivered the stunning Lower Angle #3. Shigure felt his pulse quicken again, and fought to keep his breathing steady.

A second later, Aya pulled away, sighing in disappointment. "Damn. I really thought I had a winner this time." He looped his arm through Shigure's and continued their stroll towards the club room.

"Aya, what the hell…?"

"Just checking," Ayame assured him, his voice light and teasing. "Heartbeat up ten, breathing up two. You're right, it's good, but Lidded Eyes #6 got that plus a half sigh and a blush."

Shigure rolled his eyes. Surely there was no one else in the world that could be so analytical about their flirting. When others saw it, Aya's act was as natural as breathing, and the more alluring for that. Only Shigure and Hatori knew this side of it. He wondered what others would think if they knew that their responses to Aya's charms were being methodically dissected by that frighteningly quick mind. Ayame knew Shigure and Hatori's resting heart and breathing rates perfectly, and what appeared as a caress was more often his check for deviations. Aya didn't have to see a reaction to know exactly how effective his techniques were.

Ayame locked the door to the club room as soon as they were inside. "You never did tell me what you thought of the dress," he pouted, reaching back to undo its clasps.

Shigure grabbed him around the waist before he could, pulling his friend's hips against his. One hand wrapped possessively around Aya's neck, while the other stroked the other boy's back in a single, slow sweep. Shigure's eyes were dark and dangerous as he leaned in, his lips hovering a breath away from Ayame's. "You'd look better without it," he said, his voice a velvet growl.

Aya's eyes opened dramatically and his breath hitched in his throat, his lips parting as he pressed closer to Shigure. A second later he caught himself at it and, with a brilliant laugh, he disentangled himself from the other boy's arms. He swept into a bow that was elegant and not at all out of place, a rare genuine smile lighting up his face. "I concede defeat, Gure-sama," he teased. "Heart rate up twelve, breathing up three, was it?"

"Twelve and six, and you know it," Shigure returned. "Plus reciprocation."

Aya's lips twisted in annoyance, and Shigure knew it was because Aya had only gotten him to reciprocate once, and that had taken the legendary Lidded Eyes #6 and an angelic white robe. "Points off for contact, though," he said petulantly, twisting his arms behind his back to get at the dress clasps. "Romance is about suggestion and hope, leaving things to the imagination. Too much contact is crass. Drat these clasps."

Shigure stepped forward and spun his cousin around by the shoulders, his fingers deftly undoing the offending clasps. "It's a nice dress," he said thoughtfully. "But it doesn't suit you, somehow. Is it for someone else, or did you finally let one of the others try to design one for you?"

"It's for Hatachi-kun, who has the lead in the freshmen's open day play. His coloring's a bit like mine, but he his shoulders are just a bit too broad for this sort of thing. I'm hoping this design will hide it, but it sits funny on me," Aya admitted. Of course, he knew he still looked splendid in it, but it could never hope to match a by-Ayame-for-Ayame creation. He shrugged out of the dress and handed it carelessly to Shigure to be put on the dressmaker's dummy.

Shigure put the dress away awkwardly. With half his attention he watched Aya wander around the room, chattering about this and that costume, forgetting in his excitement that he was only half dressed. When he was dressed, Ayame looked slender and delicate but, like the snake he was, there was hidden strength in those lean muscles. This was a side of him that he only allowed Shigure and Hatori to see: revealing his strength would dispel some of the ethereal beauty that so captivated the other students.

Ayame was standing by a formal kimono for the freshmen's play when he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes taking on a calculating gleam. "Hey, Gure…"

"Yeah?"

"I know I said you won, but…"

Sensing a challenge, Shigure met his cousin's eyes squarely. "Yeah?"

"Which play do you think would get a better reaction out of Tori-san?" Aya's smile looked like a viper about to strike.

Shigure return grin was excited, with a flash of challenging teeth. "Shall we find out?"

_With a soft snort, Shigure turned the page. Ha-kun's breathing hadn't changed at all, nor had his heart rate increased by a single beat. Each time one of them tried their technique, he had simply gazed at them through his fringe of bangs with those clear eyes, until Aya blushed and staggered away, and Shigure was reduced to stuttering apologies._

_Really, Hatori had always been far too good at that game for them to have any hope of beating him._

* * *

GiaKohana did some absolutely lovely artwork for Chapter 4 (I think?). For 'Schoolboys', anyway. Please go admire it!  
www deviantart com / deviation / 46536351 

I hope the link works out. It's missing all the periods, and I don't know if the slashes will show up.

Next up should be Kimi and Haru. (Wierd, huh?) I guess it'll be kinda nonsensical if you've only watched the anime... but I think it should be clear enough. Maybe?


	7. Imagine

**Imagine**

She sees him slouching around the hallway sometimes. He's a shadow behind a bursting ball of sunshine, both moon and darkness against that golden brightness. She thinks he's gorgeous.

He's hanging around outside the student council room after school. She comes out of the meeting and finds herself unable to walk any further; she's so stunned. The weak afternoon sunlight filtering through the window outlines him in a silver halo and deepens the shadows on his face. He's no longer just gorgeous: he's a dazzling angel come to earth, breath-taking, pure, and somehow possessed by a beautiful sadness. She wants to take his head in her hands, smooth away that soft hair, and let him know that everything will be alright.

It's the first time she's been this attracted to a boy. Normally, boys are falling all over themselves to get close to her, fighting to be the recipients of a single, dazzling smile. They're cute, the way puppies are, tripping over each other as they compete for a treat.

They aren't all like that, of course. Sohma-kun, their talented president, is too perfect to be real. He's a god on a pedestal, something to be dreamed about but never attained. Or there's that dratted vice-president, who's more likely to laugh at her than moon over her. He's neither man nor puppy: that boy is a pig. But this boy… this man… a man with the heart of an angel, the soul of a poet, the body of a god…

Seeing him standing there, she's at once hopeful and full of despair. He's obviously waiting. For her? She'd like to believe that any boy will fall for her. A part of her knows it isn't true. If he knows she exists, it's only as 'that girl on the Student Council'. Whatever he's waiting for, it isn't her.

"Oh, did you come to wait for Kimi?" she asks as cutely as she can. If she can pretend he's just like any other boy, it won't matter that he isn't there for her. If he doesn't matter, he can't hurt her.

He looks at her, and he smiles like he knows what she's thinking. "I'm waiting for Yuki," he says. He doesn't add 'san' or even 'kun'. This boy is so close to Sohma-kun, but she doesn't even know his name. Does that mean she isn't close to Sohma-kun either, despite how much time she spends with him? "Is the meeting almost over?"

"Oh, yes. But they'll stay behind for a while." She tosses her hair. "The president likes to put in extra work."

"I see. Thank you."

"Kimi can stay and keep you company while you wait." She tries to sound sincere, but also like she's doing him a great favor. He doesn't need to know that she wants to spend a bit more time in his company. Even if it doesn't mean anything to him. Even if she tells herself it doesn't mean anything to her, either.

"But you must have something to do if you left early. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you." He's not falling over himself to be with her. But he's being considerate. A hopeful little voice in her heart whispers that that might be even better. A boy would think only of himself; this man is thinking of her.

"No, no. Kimi didn't have anything to do. She didn't want to be in the way." It's a gamble, in a way, but she adds, "Kimi won't be in your way, will she?"

His glance is uninterested, but his response promising. "No."

"Great!" There's an awkward pause as she waits for him to introduce himself. "What's your name, Sohma-kun?"

Shocking white hair falls in his eyes as he stares at her, trying to figure out the question. "But… you just called me…"

She laughs and tosses her hair, making sure it brushes against his shoulder. "Kimi figured out that you're the president's brother." She puts to a finger to her cheek as though she's being clever. "You two are so close. It's wonderful."

"Ah… yeah." He stares at the opposite wall like he's debating whether to answer her original question. "I'm Hatsuharu."

"Ah, Hatsuharu-kun. Kimi is very happy to meet you." There's something about him that has her bowing on instinct, even though she hasn't bowed when meeting someone since who-knows-when. She's positive she's never bowed to anyone younger than her grandmother.

He talks to her a bit after that, about the weather and classes and the school drama production that's opening soon. It's the sort of conversation she could have with a friend's grandfather. It's not awkward, at least. He seems distant, not entirely there, and he keeps checking his watch, but at least it's a conversation.

At last he swears and stands up. "Thank you for keeping me company, Kimi." He doesn't call her 'Kimi-chan', or 'Kimi-san'. Just 'Kimi'. Her heart lurches at the thought that maybe he's been acting reserved, but she still has a chance.

He throws open the door to the Student Council room, returning a few seconds later dragging the president by his collar. "… still work to do," the president is saying.

"I promised I would have you back in time for dinner. Come _on_."

"I need my papers." She's never seen the president this flustered. His arms are twisting behind him, trying to reach the boy who's dragging him backwards down the hallway. "Let me go, Haru!"

"Not even for you will I break that promise," Hatsuharu-kun says firmly. He keeps walking, dragging the president after him like a doll until Sohma-kun gives up and walks on his own.

Watching them disappear, she can't think of anything but how wrong she was.

_Putting his pen down, Shigure inspected the passage critically. It was cobbled together from a few offhand comments the teens had made at dinner the other night. He wanted to believe he'd put it together properly, based on what he knew of the characters and events but… well, considering the characters, they could as easily have got right to it in the school hallway. It's not something he would put past Hatsuharu._

_Shigure stretched and stood. That scene was for another time. He'd needed sadness and heartbreak this time, and his ignorant, hilarious muses had once again delivered. He'd have to remember to change the names before he gave it to Mit-chan, though._

_Especially since that cute girl at the bookstore had let slip that a Sohma Hatsuharu-san already had a reserve on Shigure's next book._

* * *

It's been a while, I know. Every once in a while, the real world catches up with me. Next chapter, Megumi/Momo. As always, comments, critiques, and suggestions are very welcome. 


	8. Destiny

_Edit (Sept 20 /07): Once again, the italics didn't show up. Stupid things. Fixed now._**  
**

* * *

**Destiny**

He'd met each of the brats only once, and hadn't seen either of them since. At the time, he had been struck, more than anything, by how utterly, pathetically normal they both were. Oh sure, there were claims that the boy could curse people just by knowing their names, and no one related to that damn rabbit could be completely normal, but to Shigure's practiced eyes they were about as exciting as scrambled eggs.

Which was not to say they were completely uninteresting. Properly prepared, he quite liked scrambled eggs: they had an interesting texture, and you could mix in all sorts of interesting things, like cheese or mushrooms or extra spicy salsa. But, no matter how what you added, underneath you still just had scrambled eggs.

Those two were like that. Momo was a cute little thing, with big eyes and golden hair, who would one day grow up to be the queen of her high school. That brat Megumi would be nothing special to look at, if he was any judge, but anyone who really believed they could curse people had some interesting character points, at the very least. Most authors would be thrilled to have such character models to work with, but somehow…

What it was, Shigure decided, was that he had been living too long surrounded by people who turned into animals or smashed priceless vases over other people's heads as a matter of course. It had completely spoiled him for the real world. On the other hand, as an author Shigure didn't have to deal with the real world very often.

Still, he might as well keep his hand in, he thought. Sales might go down if he completely lost touch with what normal was, since readers liked characters that they could relate to somewhat. It helped them imagine that they could find the sort of romance described in his books. Shigure wasn't so out of touch with reality as to believe that could happen, but it was a delusion that sold well.

He'd start, he figured, with a bit of platonic childhood love. To begin, introduce the protagonist...

_He'd had to stay late after class again. No matter how many detentions he served or parent-teacher conferences he sat through, the teachers always believed that this next one would finally solve his 'behavioral problems'. Or, as one exasperated teacher had put it, "fix that blasted attitude of his." Megumi had never, as far as he knew, actually done anything against the rules, but every year there was some teacher that took his behavior personally. It wasn't even like he tried to be offensive. He just never quite connected with anyone._

It had to start with a normal day, because normal people had normal days, right? It was practically part of the definition of being 'normal'. Same thing for breakfast each day, the daily commute to work or school, some interactions the were interchangeable and boring to anyone not involved, same old dinner, rinse and repeat. Normal. Next, throw in something a little bit unusual, not big enough that it would cause comment (except that, since it was a story, it would of course be important), just enough to be the seeds of something later on.

_He looked down, expecting a branch or a nail to be caught on the hem of his sweater. Instead, it was a small hand, bunched in the thin wool._

A sweater? Shigure wondered. It could have been a shirt, or a jacket, but… well, why not a sweater? The kid only wore black anyways, he could be excused the extra oddity of wearing a sweater when he was too young to use it as a fashion statement and too old to have been dressed in it by his mother. Now to give him his first glimpse of his future...

_She had been dressed by someone who was well aware of her natural cuteness, and had sought to emphasize it. The little brown coat looked expensive and fashionable, the sort of thing a doll might wear. Between its high collar and her pink hat with its bunny on the front, her golden hair shone in waves that looked almost unnatural. One pink mitten dangled from a string coming out of her sleeve. It was the sort of adorable look that would have most women squealing in delight._

Of course, he couldn't be happy to see her. He'd grumble, but he'd take the poor lost little girl home, because that's what heroes did (he wasn't sure if they did it because they were heroes, or if they were heroes because they did, but that was a moot point). And her mother would be terribly grateful, she had been so worried, honestly, she didn't know what she would have done if someone hadn't found her little angel, et cetera, et cetera, and then he'd go home. He wouldn't mention it at dinner, because it wasn't important anyway, and nothing would come of it.

Except that, since it was a story, of course something would have to come of it. It was a sort of literary imperative. Never mind that, in real life, nothing really would come of it, in a story it had to be important. _And he never saw her again and eventually got a job at a boring company, married a boring wife, and had two boring children_ did not sell very well. His readers wanted to read about someone they could relate to, not themselves.

That was enough uncharitable thoughts for the time being. Any more, and it would be reflected in his writing, and some of his readers were intelligent enough to notice that sort of thing, even if they couldn't recognize it for what it was. Now for the time skip, because you couldn't write a romance where the heroine was four years old. Not if you wanted it marketed in any reputable book store, at any rate. That was the sort of thing reserved for back-alley porn shops and literature of the sort that always seemed to crop up in book clubs. It took a very strange sort of person to see a bodice-ripper with pedophilic content as psychologically profound, in his opinion, but that didn't mean such people didn't exist.

The trick was to make the time skip of an acceptable length. Too long, and there was no reason for the two to remember each other. Too short, and she would still be too young, rendering the time skip pointlessly disruptive to the plot. Ten years would be acceptable, he figured. That would make the heroine fourteen: still young enough to be innocent and impressionable, holding on to an idealized image of her rescuer from long ago. She wouldn't even know his name, but already he would be her image of a perfect boyfriend, the one to which all others would be compared. Plus, she would be starting high school, which meant all sorts of fun little plot devices he could indulge in.

_She smiled at herself in the mirror, turning her head different ways to find the best angle. Slightly over the shoulder, with a dip of the chin, made her look older and more mysterious, she thought. No more puppy love and holding hands with sweet, if immature, boys: today she was starting high school. She smoothed her crisp, pleated skirt, blew her reflection a kiss, and sashayed out of her bedroom. Today, she told herself, is just the beginning. Her mother, fussing about her as they made their way out of the house, rather ruined the feeling._

Her hopes would soon have to be dashed, Shigure reflected. High school might be fun, but what a time of drama it was. They all thought they were so grown up, and didn't realize that adults would never act the way they did. Really, some kids were just beyond help. He and his friends had never been like that when they were in high school, of course.

The boy would have to rescue her again, of course. There was no other way for a girl who aspired to be the princess of her high school to end up with the weird loner. Well, not in a romance novel, anyway. For all Shigure knew, it happened all the time out there in the real world.

What would it be, he wondered. Getting lost on the school trip? Flunking an exam and needing a tutor? Perhaps a boyfriend who appeared sweet at first but later tried to take advantage. Best to go with that one. It was so standard that, with a change of name and costume, it could be fit into any storyline. But that, Shigure reminded himself, was because it worked. If he wanted a change, he could make the despicable boyfriend be the president of the chess club or something equally iniquitous. He'd be handsome, the perfect student, secretly a great athlete, and just unusual enough for the readers to be surprised despite the tired plotline.

Throw in some awkward moments, a couple of flashbacks, sidekicks for the guys and best friends for the girl, and it was done. It took a true genius to come up with this sort of trash. Now to the fun part, where he got to figure out how best to torture…

And that was the damn doorbell. Just when he had all these happy, creative juices flowing as he prepared his next prank to play on Mit-chan. It never failed. He opened the door, ready to yell at whatever idiot relative had come to disturb his creative process, and stopped. There was no one there.

He looked down. Oh. A dark haired boy scowled up at him. Clinging to him, face all but buried in his school jacket, was a little blond girl. Shit.

"I found her. She says she's a Sohma. You deal with it."

As the Hanajima brat stomped away, leaving the writer with a timid, teary-eyed Momo, Shigure found himself reflecting that God really was a bastard with a messed up sense of humor.

* * *

_As you can probably imagine from how long it took me to update this, my muse for this set has completely kicked the bucket. So I'll just throw this out as an invitation: give me a pairing, a prompt, something, and we'll see if we can't drag that idiot muse back from the grave. Seriously, even a half-dozen prompts would be welcome Otherwise, well, thanks for sticking with this._


	9. Innocence

_Wow. I got such an incredible response last time. Completely blew me away Thanks to everyone for your kind words and encouragement, and especially your suggestions. I'm finding I like writing for prompts: it gets me to write things I wouldn't normally think of. Feel free to keep suggesting them - especially weird ones, 'cause those are lots of fun. I've written two of the suggested pairings already, and they just need to be edited. This one came out of a sentence fragment I scribbled down months ago, and was also partly inspired by littlefiction's _The List, _which can be found here on ff net._

* * *

**Innocence**

She's trying her best to preserve what's left of her innocence. Uo-chan likes to tease her, call her "sweet, innocent Tohru," but that's because Uo-chan doesn't know. Tohru is never, ever going to tell her, either. To be fair - which Tohru naturally is - they didn't try to steal her innocence. It's just another part of their curse, and they're much more worried about people finding out than they are about Tohru's pure mind. Which, she tells herself, is as it should be.

It's just that she's seventeen, which is a difficult age to remain completely innocent at anyway. She lives with three boys - men - two boys and a man? - which most people would think means she's far, far from innocent. Even with all that, she thinks, she might have managed a bit better but for one thing: she's seen them all naked. Completely, utterly, stark-as-the-day-they-were-born naked. It doesn't matter how quickly she covers her eyes and turns around, each time it's like another image is burned into her eyes and mind and she is never, ever, going to be able to get rid of it.

Maybe, she thinks, it wouldn't be so bad if there were more girls (she loves all the junishi, and doesn't want them to change, but there aren't that many girls). It's not such a big deal when Kagura, or Kisa, or Rin transforms; a naked girl is still naked, but Tohru has had time to come to terms with the anatomy involved. After all, she's a girl, her mother was a girl, Uo-chan and Hana-chan are girls... which isn't to say that she's comfortable, but the sight of a naked girl doesn't destroy her innocence the way a boy does.

There are a lot more boys in the junishi, and they're far more careless than the girls are. Or maybe it's just that they're all equally comfortable around her, but the girls don't transform when they bump into her. In a way, she hopes that's the reason, but at the same time, she wishes they'd be more careful. One very quiet, secret part of her hopes they won't be.

It's that little secret part that tells Tohru her innocence is well and truly gone. It's gotten stronger as she's gotten older, and it thinks of the most horrid, fascinating things. Like what Yuki and Kyou will look like when they're older, or how Shigure looks now. Or who looks the best without their clothes on.

Not even that dark little part of her will rank the girls, although Rin is absolutely gorgeous, whatever she wears (as absolutely anyone can see). She won't rank Hiro in there, either - however hard he tries to be grown up, he's just a little boy. If he's anything like his relatives, though, in five or six years it won't matter how much younger he is than her. But, for now, she thinks of Hiro as a cute (prickly, sarcastic, pessimistic) little brother.

Sometimes the dark little part balks at considering Ritsu, as well, since he looks so much like a girl. But then an even darker part will remind her that, without his clothes on, Ritsu is very definitely a guy. A thin guy, yes, without much muscle, and a delicate build even when compared to his relatives, and long hair that Tohru is completely in awe and envy of. But still a guy. Not, however, a very high ranking one, at least as far as that dark little mind is concerned.

Then there's Momiji. He's adorable, and she loves him dearly, but it'll be another few years before he goes beyond cute. He's a shining ball of sunshine without the least bit of shame or modesty. She thinks it's largely his fault her innocence has been so corrupted: he was the one who kissed her the first time she met him, the one who insisted on sleeping with her when she still thought he was a little boy, the one who takes every opportunity to hug or snuggle with her (and then transform). But Momiji without his clothes is a lot like Momiji with his clothes, only there's a few more people shouting at him to stop whatever it is he's doing. He's not the sort of inspire torrid fantasies in a teenage girl, even one as corrupted as Tohru thinks she might be.

Ayame and Hatori, in contrast, most definitely are. Ayame might have long hair, a slim figure, and girly clothes (she's even seen him in a wedding dress) but that slimness comes from sleek muscles under luminous skin, not skinniness. He moves with a grace, and there's elegance in everything he does. He's the sort of person that, once you've seen them naked once, you cannot see them clothed without imagining it. Ayame is romance personified, and that he knows it only makes him more attractive. She thinks that his shop must do so well because what Ayame sells is romance, and there is nothing and no one more romantic than Ayame.

While Ayame inspires daydreams of candlelit dinners and walks on the beach and dancing late into the night, Hatori is the sort that inspires daydreams of an entirely different sort. He's larger than Ayame, less graceful, but he carries the extra size with self-possession. Hatori is not light, flighty romance - he's coiled, pure intensity, a cool demeanor with a hidden fire ready to burst out. Hatori is sexy. It's easy to imagine him being passionate and fierce - he's a dragon, after all - but his gentleness is even easier to remember. She's felt his hands on her before, when she's been injured; gentle, kind, careful not to cause her the least discomfort. Those memories make the daydreams even harder to banish.

There's no daydreams about Hatsuharu. Haru is, possibly, even sexier than Hatori, but that might just be because he's closer to her age, so she's less embarrassed to think of it. But Haru loves Yuki, and he loves Rin, and in a way he might sort of love Momiji. Somehow, this lifts him up, out of the realm of daydreams, and she (or at least, the dark little part of her mind) can appreciate him in an entirely aesthetic way.

It's about this time in her consideration of those responsible for her loss of innocence that Tohru always makes a startling, embarrassing discovery: she lives with the three sexiest Sohma men there are. And, since they're Sohma's, that means they might even be the sexiest men alive. It's quite enough to make a girl flush red all over. There's Yuki, the prince, who really is perfect in every way but still completely human, delicate yet strong, with gorgeous purple eyes. And Kyou, who's fierce and awkward, but sweet underneath, his skin tanned over hard muscles gained from his training. Finally, there's Shigure, the mature man with the wicked eyes, easy smile, and kind words, who calls her a princess and a flower and sometimes remembers to treat her like one.

The dark little part of her mind has come up with more fantasies than she can count involving these three. Some of them are innocent - a picnic, tea with Shigure, visiting Yuki's garden, sitting on the roof with Kyou, a trip to the onsen... many, in fact, are simply memories of the times she's spent with them. Others, that have grown more frequent of late, are far less innocent. Sometimes she finds herself grateful for the curse, which makes them impossible, although she feels guilty immediately afterwards.

When that sort of fantasy creeps into her head, the best way to get it out is good, clean work. The house is immaculate and sparkling, the food exquisite, in the face of her determination to preserve her disappearing innocence. She's wouldn't give up living with the Sohma's for anything, but she's not going to give up her purity without a fight either.

___There was a fantastic smell drifting over from the kitchen. Shigure followed his nose, a slight grin on his face. Tohru's cooking, already amazing, had gotten even better over the last couple of weeks. He wondered about the reason._

___It was about time for him to get a haircut, he thought. It didn't bother him too much most of the time, but when it was from his bath, like now, it hung in his eyes. Peeking in the kitchen, he pushed his hair out of his eyes so he could see his delightful little cook. "What are you making, my flower?" he asked._

___Tohru turned to face him, a ready smile on her face. He watched with interest as she froze, turned bright red, and spun back to face the stove. "Food," she squeaked. "Rice. Fish." She sounded distinctly breathless._

___Grinning, Shigure loosened his yukata a little more and went to wait for his dinner. It looked like he'd been right, and things were going to be a lot more fun from now on. He didn't mind in the least: you were only seventeen once, and Tohru-chan looked so cute when she was trying not to think perverted thoughts._

* * *

___Next up: Kyo x Yuki  
_


	10. Into the Woods

_Hooray, longest chapter yet! I was having trouble with prompts, so I grabbed one of those table thingies people put together for fic challenges: you know, there's like a hundred words, and you're supposed to write a drabble for each one that fits certain criteria. So I decided to use a random number generator, one of those, and some pairing that you guys have given me whenever I get stuck. It seems to work: this comes from #54 (Running) and a suggestion from kyoshigurelover._

**Into the Woods**

Kyo would never forget but sometimes, when he was running, he liked to imagine that he could. It was easier if he ran through the woods, so he could focus on his foot placement and dodging the trees instead of all that other stuff that running was supposed to open your mind to. Like memories. Kyo had a lot of memories and, despite Momiji and Tohru's insistence that every memory was important, sometimes he just wanted to forget everything for a little while. Not just the bad stuff - his mother, his bracelet, the curse, his father - but the good stuff too - Tohru, Shishou, living at Shigure's house, Tohru. Sometimes it was easier just to be a mindless, emotionless bundle of motion and energy. When he ran like that, Kyo never picked a direction or set a time limit for his run: he followed his feet and the wind until he collapsed. Then he'd get up and run some more, or slowly pick his way back to the house. Most of the time it wasn't that far away: he tended to run in circles and double back on himself, so that even if he ran all day, he could still make it home before Tohru started to worry.

There wasn't anything in the woods that he deliberately avoided, but his feet nonetheless unerringly led him away from people, roads, and Yuki's garden. Time disappeared in the woods, as distances and landscapes blurred together - landmarks would have brought it, and memories, back, negating the purpose of his runs. So he was shocked when his feet led him to a sparsely wooded area and he found Yuki. The other boy was sitting under a tree as though he was waiting for something, and he had all the time in the world to do so.

Kyo stopped abruptly, a snarl forcing its way between his lips as reality and exhaustion hit him like twin hammers. "What are you doing here, Ku'so Nezumi?" he asked. Probably nothing: just being his normal self, annoying the world with his existence.

"Baka Neko," Yuki returned mildly, not answering the question.

"I said - " Kyo started, though tiredness kept him from sounding as angry as he would have liked.

"I don't feel like telling you," the annoying mouse said, his amused smirk belaying his uninterested shrug. Kyo knew he was being wound up, but he didn't really have the energy for it. He'd been having such a good run, too, before the bastard came along and ruined it.

"Then get lost," he snarled. He pulled off his t-shirt and used it to dry the sweat from his hair and forehead, then his torso. Yuki watched him with an expression that seemed mildly disgusted.

"That's gross."

"Then don't watch."

"You're gross."

The rejoinder was so juvenile, so completely unlike Yuki, that Kyo could think of nothing to say to it. Never, not even when he was six, had Yuki used such stupid school-yard taunts. He'd always been coolly disdaining, especially towards Kyo. He stared at the other boy's purple eyes, looking for some hint as to his thoughts but, of course, there was none. "You're a freak," he said at last. He crumpled to the sparse grass with a sigh. Standing and trying to figure Yuki out at the same time was too much effort right now. A glance at the other boy showed purple eyes dancing with amusement as they watched him. "A complete and total freak."

Yuki hummed slightly, acknowledging the insult. "So this is what you do when you disappear."

"You came all the way out here for that?" If that was the case, the mouse really was a freak.

"If you beat me, I'll tell you."

Kyo was on his feet in an instant, despite his protesting muscles. Even if he couldn't run, fighting was almost as good. When he fought, he didn't feel cursed. And when they fought, Yuki forgot to treat him like the Cat. They were just opponents, trying their very best to kick the holy living snot out of each other. Fighting was almost as good as running, even if it didn't last as long. "Bring it on, Ku'so Nezumi."

Yuki, if anything, looked even more amused. "A race. To that boulder and back." The boulder was maybe a hundred yards away, just visible through the trees. It would have been an easy distance to cover, if Kyo hadn't been running for most of the day already.

Still, he wasn't about to back out of a contest and concede to the stupid rat. "Fine. Let's go. Now." He took off, Yuki hard on his heels. At a dead sprint they were about equally matched, but Yuki was fresh. On the other hand, Kyo was a bit taller, and more experienced at picking his way across the uneven ground of the forest. They hit the boulder at the same time, shoulders and hips jostling into each other as they turned and took off again, feet pounding on the forest floor as they raced back to the tree that marked the finish line.

Kyo hit the tree first, his hand impacting a split second before Yuki's. He didn't bother trying to savor the victory, but slumped to the ground, his last reserves used up. The rough tree bark scraped his back, reminding him that he hadn't put his shirt back on. It sat forlornly a few feet away, damp and slightly muddy.

Yuki dropped down next to him, seemingly relaxed despite his heavy breathing. This close, Kyo could see a faint sheen of sweat on the other boy's forehead and neck and found himself wondering why the idiot would try to run despite his asthma. The mouse leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, a slight smile playing across his lips.

"You aren't going to die on me, are you, you pathetic mouse?" Kyo asked.

Yuki opened one eye to glance at him, then closed it again. His smile grew a little. "That's not gloating," he gasped out.

"Can't gloat when the other guy's dead," Kyo said crossly, annoyed that he'd been caught showing concern over the stupid mouse.

"I won't die. My asthma's fine. I'm just tired."

"You're tired? Weakling."

"Say it again and I'll kick your ass." Even without looking, Kyo could tell Yuki was smiling. His voice sounded more normal too, so maybe it really didn't have anything to do with his asthma.

Kyo settled more comfortably against the tree, trying to minimize the scratches on his back. The warmth of Yuki's body was uncomfortably hot where their hips and shoulders touched, but he'd be grateful for it as soon as his sweat-soaked body began to cool. "Now answer the question," he told the other boy, unsure if he'd meant for it to come out more or less surly than it actually had.

Yuki didn't open his eyes. "Nii-san came over. He keeps flirting with Honda-san," Kyo found himself growling slightly, "and trying to have brotherly moments with me." The mouse sounded disgusted.

"Doesn't explain why you came to bother me."

"Wasn't really planning on it. I just came for a walk, really. And then I wanted to run."

"Why?"

"You're annoying."

Even though Yuki couldn't see it, Kyo glared at the other boy. "Why can't you just answer questions?" he demanded.

"I did. You're annoying, so I felt like racing." Yuki shrugged, his shoulder bumping more forcefully into Kyo's.

"Stupid freak." Kyo tried to punch the stupid rat, but between his exhaustion and the awkward angle, he couldn't manage it. Something must have told Yuki it was coming, because his eyes flew open. He caught it easily and, even with the awkward angle, wrenched Kyo's arm into a hold like Shishou had taught them. He forced Kyo's face down, towards his knees. Kyo fought, but the hold wrenched his shoulder, and after a moment's struggle his muscles refused to cooperate any more. He slumped down awkwardly, half across Yuki's knees, his arm twisted up behind him.

Yuki, feeling all resistance melt away, released the hold. Too tired to sit up, Kyo pulled his arm around his face, trying to at least keep his head warm. He could feel the sweat evaporating off his back; it froze him. There was silence for a moment: Yuki seemed to be thinking about something and Kyo, for his part, was happy to lie there and accept what warmth he could, even if it was from the stupid rat.

"You're really an idiot," Yuki said at last. Kyo felt the other boy's arms go around his shoulders and ribs, and found himself being pulled up the other's legs so that his shoulders and the top of his back rested against Yuki's stomach. He was curled, he realized sleepily, across the mouse's lap like the giant cat he was. The irony didn't escape him, but at the moment he found it funny rather than annoying.

"Shut up," he grumbled, curling closer to better enjoy the warmth. He felt Yuki's arm wrap around his ribs and stomach, adding a bit of warmth to the coldest part of him. For such a stupid, girly prince, the mouse was remarkably comfortable, he thought.

Yuki made that annoying, non-committal humming noise. Stupid, girly and annoying, Kyo amended silently. Definitely annoying. But warm and comfortable, the cat-like part of him said, and when he was this close to falling asleep that was all that mattered. He felt Yuki rest a hand on his head. It felt so nice and comfortable, he let out a little hum of pleasure. The hand pulled back, and Kyo found himself irrationally disappointed.

Then the hand returned, this time to slowly rub at the spot that, if he had been in cat form, would have been right between his ears. It felt so wonderful that Kyo, half-asleep and thinking more like a cat than a human, let out a little purr. He felt, rather than heard, Yuki's chuckle, but since the stupid rat didn't stop the ear scratching, Kyo was willing to let it go.

"Baka Neko," he heard Yuki say, with something like fondness, just before he dropped off to sleep.

He woke and made his way back to the house just before dusk. Yuki went with him most of the way, but veered off at the last moment to get some leek from the garden for dinner, much to Kyo's disgust. Not that it would have mattered if they'd returned together, Kyo thought as he slipped up to his room to find a clean shirt. Even Shigure, Pervert Extraordinaire, who like to imagine all sorts of lewd things in their day-to-day lives, wouldn't guess what had actually happened.

* * *

_Next chapter, Shigure x Hatori. I really need to start writing some het pairings. This is so not like me..._


	11. Veterinarian

_Another pairing suggested by kyoshigurelover. I'm working through all the wonderful suggestions I got, but it takes time. This one wasn't from a prompt, since I had an idea in mind - but it turned out shorter because of it, I think._

* * *

**Veterinarian**

"Don't wanna!" Shigure wailed.

Ayame gave his hand another insistent tug. "You have to. Tori-san said so."

"No!" With a wrench, Shigure pulled his hand out of his cousin's and took off running. He only made it a few steps before Aya caught him again, this time by the back of his collar. He could still escape, of course: the beauty of wearing a yukata was how easy it was to take off. But that would mean running naked through the Sohma compound until he found someone who was willing to give him clothes. He wasn't that desperate yet, but as the time of his meeting with Ha-kun drew nearer, the idea was looking more and more inviting.

"Tori-san will be mad if we're late," Aya told him sternly as he dragged Shigure towards the office door.

"Aya, don't you love me?" Shigure made his best puppy eyes. Aya couldn't see them, so the sure-win puppy eyes did him absolutely no good. If his cousin had looked back and seen that expression, Shigure was sure he'd be on his way to freedom right now.

"You know I do, Gure-san, but this is for your own good." Sweet as his words were, he kept right on dragging Shigure towards the office door and his doom.

The door opened before they reached it. Hatori leaned against the doorframe, watching Ayame drag the struggling Shigure towards the door by his collar. "I'm not a vet. I became a people-doctor so I wouldn't have to deal with this shit," he announced to no one in particular.

"I brought him, Tori-san," Aya said cheerfully, thrusting Shigure towards the doctor triumphantly. Hatori stared at them for a moment, then took Shigure's collar from Aya and dragged him into the office.

"Aya, my love, wear something beautiful to my funeral," Shigure called desperately.

Ayame laughed. "I always look beautiful, Gure-san," he called back before sashaying away down the corridor.

Hatori dragged Shigure over to a chair and tossed him into it. "Sit. Stay," he ordered.

Shigure sat, and he stayed, huddled into a protective ball on the chair. "Don't do this, Ha-kun," he whined. The other man looked up from where he was rummaging through his desk, then looked back down with a shake of his head.

"I need your left arm," he told Shigure when he came back, carrying a small box. Shigure thought about arguing, but Hatori's glare shut his mouth and had him meekly freeing his arm from its voluminous sleeve.

He whimpered when Hatori brought out the needle. It was big, and pointy, and very, very menacing. For Shigure nothing, not even Akito in a blind rage, held as much terror as that needle. "Hold still," Hatori ordered. "It'll be over in a second."

Shigure did his very best to hold still, but it still seemed like an eternity between the time Hatori stuck the needle in and the time he remove it, the syringe now empty. "Ha-kun, it hurts," he whined as Hatori swabbed the spot on his arm where he had so cruelly stuck the needle.

"You're such a crybaby."

Shigure pouted. "You're mean. You made it hurt on purpose." He reached over to rub his sore arm, but Hatori slapped his hand away.

"Don't." Their eyes, pained grey and coolly amused olive, met, and Hatori grinned. He planted a quick kiss on Shigure's arm, just over the injection site, and then slapped a dog-patterned band-aid over top. "There. All better."

"It is?" Shigure asked suspiciously. "They don't teach that in doctor school."

"Yes they do," Hatori countered. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

Shigure hesitantly poked at his arm. It was still a bit tender, but it didn't really hurt. "No?" he offered.

"See? You've been a good, boy, now run along. I have work to do."

"What about my treat?"

Hatori rolled his eyes. "You already got it. Get lost." Shigure thought his cheeks looked a bit red.

"Alright Ha-kun," he said. He waved cheerfully and bounded out the door. Maybe going for his shots wasn't so bad after all. And he could always demand a bigger treat next time. He was almost looking forward to it.

* * *

_Next, Ayame x Tohru and turnips O.O_


	12. Snake

_When I started this series, I had a strong common theme planned: these would be ficlets about Shigure's romance writing. I've gotten more relaxed about this as time has gone on, until we get to this point, where I'm breaking just about every rule, in that:  
(1) Shigure hardly makes an appearance  
(2) There's really no mention of writing, plot, or anything else like that  
(3) We've gone a ways beyond 'fluffy', although not to the point where I feel the need to up the rating to M.  
This will probably continue in the future. I'd like to keep a theme of romance, but beyond that, I'm going to just open this up a bit more for myself._

_This was inspired by a comment from Gwen the Kakashi Obsesser and, because I was feeling sort of masochistic, a random prompt: #36, Turnip. Seriously, who writes about turnips? It's not even a double entendre. _

* * *

**Snake**

Despite what his adorable little brother seemed to think, Ayame was not a snake by nature, only by form. That is to say, he did not take advantage of his shape-changing, or his need to stay warm, to get into Tohru-chan's clothes. And anyway, he'd always add, he hadn't yet gotten into her pants, so what was the big deal? Sharing her sweater was hardly the sort of thing that ought to get Yuki so heated up.

Gure-san, with his usual insight, had suggested that maybe Yuki was jealous. It was really too bad, then, that Yuki had nice warm fur, and so didn't have to suffer the way Ayame did. There were times when it was really cold that Ayame wouldn't have minded trading with his brother, but that was only when he was being selfish: after all, how could he possibly wish his horrible curse on his sweet little brother? No, Ayame would be strong and bear this burden. He should probably call Tori-san and tell him about all of this, but Tori-san had been in a bit of a mood lately.

With his most brilliant smile, Ayame slammed the front door of Gure-san's house open and stepped over the threshold. "Gure-san!" he cried, spotting his cousin seated at the table, sipping tea. "I have arrived!"

Gure-san set his teacup down gently. "Oh, Aya." He blushed delicately. "My heart is all..." He trailed off, blinked at Ayame a few times, then sighed. "Bugger it. I can't think right now. I worked for four hours today, Aya. Four!"

"Oh, my poor Gure-san," Ayame exclaimed, dropped to his knees and throwing his arms around the other man. "I shall allow you to cry on me. Unburden your heart!"

"Ah?" Tohru-chan poked her head into the room. "Ayame-san!" Her smile was genuinely welcoming. "How are you? How is Mine-san? And the shop? Ah! Sorry, I'm asking so many questions." She giggled in embarrassment and tapped herself on the head with her fist. "Would you like some tea?"

"When's dinner, my flower?" Gure-san asked. Ayame wondered, briefly, if he ought to be jealous. But really, Tohru-chan was so sweet, everyone ought to flirt with her. Since it was her, he could forgive Gure-san. And he knew Gure-san would never leave him, after all.

Tohru-chan's eyes widened. "Oh, I need to go out to the Secret Base to get some turnips. I'll be right back!"

As she hurried to get her shoes, Ayame studied his cousin. Lazy as Shigure was, working for four hours shouldn't put him in this sort of mood. Something had probably come up, but there would be no getting it out of Gure-san when he was like this. Standing quickly, to allow for the most dramatic effect with his coat, he announced, "I shall accompany you! Do not cry, Gure-san. I shall return to you, my love!" He gave his cousin a pointed look and a dazzling smile, and swept out the door after Tohru-chan.

"Are you staying for dinner, Ayame-san?" Tohru-chan's cheeks were pink from the cold; with her sweet smile, the overall effect was very fetching.

"My darling, I would love to... ah!" There was a plume of smoke, and Ayame found himself looking at the world from a very different perspective than he had been. It was very cold, but he didn't care: he didn't care about anything at all, he just wanted to sleep.

Tohru-chan was on her knees in front of him, her cute face scrunched in concern. "Ayame-san! I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so cold. Here." She scooped him up and allowed him to snuggle inside her sweater. Almost immediately, he felt more awake. She picked up his clothes too, folding them neatly so she could carry them more easily.

"Thank you, Tohru-chan," he murmured, wrapping his tail around her in a sort of embrace. He enjoyed the way her face flushed red as she stammered something incomprehensible in reply. She was so much fun to tease, was Tohru-chan. She had the sort of purity that Ayame hadn't seen in a long time. It was fun to play with her, to push the limits without destroying her innocence.

Ayame enjoyed the walk to the vegetable garden. Tohru-chan was warm and soft, and was careful to cradle him so that he didn't get bounced around too much. His little brother was very right to be jealous, he thought with a private, wicked smile. And wouldn't little Kyo-kun throw an absolute fit if he knew? He'd have to tell Tori-san all about this. But he'd have to pick his time carefully: Tori-san was very protective of Tohru-chan, and telling him at the wrong time would put him in an absolutely foul mood.

In the garden, Tohru went to her knees on the frozen earth and started pulling turnips, working carefully so she didn't break the stalks from the tubers as she pulled them from the hard ground. Ayame let himself fall away from her body to rest in the fabric of her sweater. It swayed slightly as she moved, rocking like a hammock. Tohru-chan's contented humming was a pleasant lullaby in the background.

He must have been away from her body too long, because with a poof, he found his perception of the world radically changed once more. His increased weight pulled him down, dragging Tohru-chan with him and tearing her sweater. His preternaturally quick reflexes caught the girl before she could land on him and crush the snake form that he would be returned to. Holding her above him, he allowed himself a moment to reflect that it was good he hadn't played sports in school: he would have been much too good at them, as he was at everything else, and it wouldn't have been fair to others.

"A-a-ayame-san!" Tohru-chan gasped out, her face flushed red. Ayame studied her face a moment - she was so cute when she blushed - then let his gaze slide down, along her elegant neck to the thin camisole she had worn under the sweater that now hung, torn and useless, like a curtain around them. He himself was quite naked, and he could tell that she was even more aware of the fact than he was.

"Hmmm," he murmured, looking up at her with the patented Lidded Eyes #6 and a small, seductive smile. Her cute little blush spread further down, painting rose streaks along the arc of her collarbone. She was already pushing beyond the bounds of cute, into the realm of beautiful: a few more years, or maybe just another few minutes of this, and she'd be gorgeous.

Still, he wasn't the one she wanted this from, and he had other people to think of: not least Hatori, who would surely castrate the poor snake if he did anything too naughty to sweet little Tohru-chan. But, that said, there was always the future to think of. Just because she didn't want him now was no reason to think she wouldn't in the future, and it couldn't hurt to give her a nudge in that direction.

His grin was positively feral as he flipped them over, reversing their positions. Tohru-chan lay on a bed of crushed leeks, absolutely defenseless with her torn sweater and her hair fanned around her head. She looked good enough to eat, but now wasn't the time. Above her now, his body was free of even the slight curtain that her clothing had provided. Before, she had only known that he was completely naked: now she could see it. He noted with amusement that she took a good, long look, almost as if she was unable to look away.

"Tohru-chan," he whispered, drawing her eyes back to his face. Careful not to touch his torso to hers, he lowered himself to kiss her gently, his lips only brushing over hers before he pulled back. Then, quite suddenly, he relaxed his arms, allowing himself to drop on top of her. For a brief half-second, he was able to enjoy the feel of her body against his before he turned back into a snake.

"You'll catch a cold, lying on the cold ground like that," he told her cheerfully after a minute, when it became clear that she wasn't going to be able to move without someone reminding her. "You can wear my coat back, since I seem to have ruined your sweater."

"Ah, yes..."

He coiled around her and up her back - no sense pushing his luck and trying for the front right now - and rested his head on her shoulder as she pulled the coat on. "Don't forget the turnips, Tohru-chan," he reminded her gently. He'd probably gone a little bit far this time: he'd have to be nice to her for a few weeks to make up for the scare he'd no doubt given her.

As she gathered the forgotten tubers, Ayame reflected on her reactions the past few moments. He'd known she was innocent and inexperienced, but she was still seventeen... he hadn't thought she'd be quite so inexperienced as she'd just proven herself to be. Even a junishi like him, with severe limitations on his contact with women, had had more at that age.

His games with her innocence would be more interesting from now on, that was for certain. They'd also be more risky: if Tori-san caught him at it, the dragon would definitely castrate him.

* * *

_Next: Haru x Momiji, because it turns out I've been neglecting our beloved bunny._


	13. Play Pretend

_This comes out of Hoku ala's prompt for Hatsuharu and Momiji and 'classmates', plus random prompt #20: Imitator. I felt I had to do this one, because characters like Momo, Megumi and Kimi showed up before the adorable bunny. Unfortunately, I think Momiji (and Haru, to an extent) in this might have been influenced a bit by Hunny (and Mori) in Ouran High School Host Club, which I adore more than is good for me. But since, if you know the two, you know they're kinda similar anyway, it's probably forgivable _

* * *

**Play Pretend**

"Today I'm going to be Haru!" A few kids had glanced up at the blonde ball of sunshine that was perched on the teacher's desk, but most ignored the announcement. Sohma Momiji always had an announcement or plan. Generally speaking, they were good ideas: it was just that good ideas, when they show up on a regular basis, aren't really all that exciting any more. A few had glanced at the back of the room, where the other Sohma was sprawled in his chair. If they'd been hoping for some sort of reaction, they were disappointed. One or two had found themselves wishing they had Sohma Kyo in their class: he'd have reacted to Momiji's announcements.

Momiji had hopped off the desk, the bib of his sailor suit flapping around him. "I'll be back," he'd called, waving as he skipped out of the classroom. He'd returned a few minutes later and somehow, despite his shining gold hair, it had been like another Hatsuharu stepping into the room.

The modified sailor uniform had been replaced by the standard boy's uniform, which was in itself enough to set a few female hearts beating faster. He'd left the collar open, and added a necklace that he'd probably snagged from Hatsuharu at some point. He'd fluffed his hair so it stood up in a way that was very cool and aloof, but still eye-catching.

Still, these changes alone wouldn't have been enough to make him seem like Hatsuharu. Stick Momiji in a boy's uniform, and you still had Momiji, after all. But Momiji hadn't just changed his looks: it had been like he'd become Hatsuharu on the inside as well. He'd slouched. He'd kept his eyes lidded and coolly disinterested. His hands had stayed in his pockets all the time. When he talked, it had mostly been in single, drawled words.

The teachers, who hadn't heard that morning's announcement, tended to be shocked by the change in the boy. The Sohma Momiji they knew was a pest, but he was so likeable that they really couldn't dislike him for it. His enthusiasm brought excitement to even the most boring history or English class. They had not been comfortable with this new Momiji, and more than one had taken him aside to see if he was alright. His bored, monosyllabic answers had done nothing to ease their worries. A few had made the connection, and glanced back to see how the other Sohma was taking this new development. The blank stare, like a steel wall, that had answered them had been, in it's way, comforting: if Hatsuharu didn't think there was anything wrong with his cousin, then perhaps there wasn't. But maybe Hatsuharu just hadn't noticed.

The game had lasted the entire day, and Momiji was still keeping it up as they left the school to wait for Hatori to pick them up. Standing in the autumn sunshine, Haru watched his cousin closely, although only someone who knew him well would realize that he wasn't completely bored with the world. Momiji, next to him, had the same blank look. It was strange to see those normally lively eyes looking so dead, and Haru found himself wondering if he actually looked like that. He knew he didn't show a lot of emotion - Yuki had even told him so - but he didn't think he looked that spaced out.

Other students going past glanced at them, then quickly looked away as though afraid to be caught staring. Normally, they stared openly at whatever Momiji was up to. Now they avoided meeting Haru's eyes, as though afraid something terrible had happened. If we don't look at you, their glances said, we won't have to share in your pain.

Not that there was any pain, Haru thought, unless you counted the pain in the ass that Momiji was being. He'd sometimes thought his boisterous cousin was a pest, but he'd grown used to it as they got older. It was even more annoying when he wasn't being himself, especially if it was for no reason.

"You're imitating me," he said. Of course he knew the other boy was - he'd said as much. But Haru wasn't Kyo, so he wasn't going to throw a fit in response to a little annoyance like this.

"Hn." The school grounds were almost empty now, with all the students on their way home or at their clubs, and Haru was annoyed to find Momiji keeping up his act. He didn't need these stupid gimmicks to get attention from Haru - that wasn't the way it worked with them, and he'd thought the other boy knew it.

"Momiji." Haru was starting to get annoyed.

"Hn."

"Are you going to keep imitating me?" Really, really annoyed. No, not annoyed, he realized suddenly, really pissed off.

"Hn." And also a bit turned on, because Momiji was obviously doing this for attention.

"Momiji." The other boy didn't even turn to look at him; just cut his eyes sideways in acknowledgement. Haru turned and slammed his hands against the wall, trapping the rabbit between his arms. Momiji had a moment to look surprised as his own personality resurfaced, before Haru caught his lips in an angry, demanding kiss.

The smaller boy seemed frozen, and Haru could feel the tenseness in his muscles. He pushed a little harder, just for a second, then pulled back. He kept his face utterly still as he asked, "Well?"

Blood rushed to the little rabbit's face, making it glow like a sunset. His grin, though, was bright, open, and one hundred percent Momiji. "Ne, ne, Haru? What should I do tomorrow?"

* * *

_Next: Ritsu and Mii_


	14. Juxtapose

_I'm back, briefly, but I didn't get much writing done (exams, term papers, and so on). This one did get done, but it's really short, and I have to say I'm less than thrilled with it. There are a few lines I like, but overall, it was a struggle to write. I suppose I just can't relate to the characters very well. That said, I don't hate it (I'll never post something I don't actually like), and so... uh... I don't know what I'm actually trying to say. So anyway, this came from WitchMagpie's suggestion and #47: Cloud.  
_

* * *

**Juxtapose**

He's not brave, and he's not very strong, and he could never be confident like Ayame-onii-san, so he wonders what a smart, talented woman like her is doing with him.

She's naive, and over-emotional, and she's not pretty at all, so she wonders why a handsome (beautiful) and kind man like him would bother to spend time with her.

They both wonder what people think when they go out together, and each of them is sure they're being judged for going out with someone who is so much better than themselves.

She'd like to be able to write one day; she has piles of unfinished stories hidden away in her apartment, which aren't nearly good enough to publish but which she can't bring herself to throw away, either.

He dreams of being able to hold his head high as he walks downtown, of no longer being a failure that his parents have to apologize for, and most of all of being able to be himself.

They both idolize the Mabudachis, although they wonder why such talented, confident people as Shigure-sensei and Ayame-onii-san associate with someone like Hatori (Mii thinks he's boring; Ritsu thinks he's moody).

Ritsu likes to stand on the roofs of buildings, or the top of a mountain, or any balcony high in the air: somewhere he can be above the world and free of its constraints so that he can finally enjoy it.

Mii is terrified of heights, and always hangs back from the edge, unable to look down and unwilling to look away from him.

They both like looking up, and imagining what it must be like as a cloud, to be free and unafraid.

Mii likes to go out in public, to go shopping in busy malls and walk down crowded streets: anywhere there's a crowd that she can lose herself and blend in so she can relax.

Ritsu is a junishi, so there's nothing scarier than a crowd of women and the threat of transforming, but he likes to imagine the day he'll be able to walk there with her.

They both like walking in the park best, because they can be lost in a crowd and still have their own little world.

He likes to wear women's clothes, which shield him from the accusing eyes of others and give him the confidence he doesn't have on his own.

She wears suits, and skirts with as much sex appeal as a block of wood, because if she can't be beautiful she can at least be professional and competent, which is all that's expected of her anyway.

They both know it looks like they trades clothes when they go out together, but they don't really mind: Mii is more confident and business like anyway, and they both know Ritsu looks better in a kimono. It's weird, like they're each the wrong person, but being with the other one makes them each, just a little bit, more who they want to be.

* * *

_Next: er, Tohru and someone? No one? I'll write Tohru and Kyo someday, I swear... but it's canon cries For some reason, I can't write canon pairings (in case you didn't notice from the Ritsu x Mii). I'm going to stop making excuses now._


	15. Need to Know

_This one sort of pics up off of #8 (by my count): Innocence. I'm only back from camp for half a day, so I'm in a weird head-space (that's not an excuse for this, since this one was mostly done before I left). But updates are going to be a lot less frequent now: laundry, sleep and food take priority, and I tend to be focussed on other things at camp (for instance: why does camp coffee have so little caffeine?) On the other hand, working (and living full time) at my camp are about two hundred kids between seventeen and twenty, so I should have plenty of inspiration by the end of the summer.  
_

* * *

**Need to Know  
**

He's been following her for a few days now. He thinks he's being sneaky, ducking around corners when she looks back or, if there's no convenient hiding spot, pretending he wanted to know if she's seen his glasses, his favorite pen, his porn. Yes, she tells him with a smile, they're in your study, or, why don't you use a different one? or, and there's no smile with this one, Shigure-san!

He's after something, but she can't for the life of her figure out what it is. This is, after all, Shigure-san: she can't imagine anything that he's afraid to ask, say, or do. (But then, she's still fairly innocent, at least compared to Shigure, whose imagination is better than is good for him.) But she thinks he's probably just shy about something, and is working up his courage, so she lets him be.

Sometimes she hears a scuffle break out behind her, when Yuki or Kyo notice her being tailed by that idiot dog. They're not quite as innocent as Tohru, and their imaginations are a lot better, so they're pretty sure he's planning something perverted.

In actual truth, they're all sort of right. Shigure is planning to ask Tohru something, and it is perverted. On the other hand, they're also all sort of wrong: it isn't something innocent-yet-embarrassing like Tohru suspects (like, maybe, he tried to do his own laundry and turned all his underwear pink, and could she please fix it?), and doesn't involve cosplay, or ropes, or any of the other things Yuki and Kyo suspect just before they have to make a dash for the tissue box to hide the direction of their thoughts.

She's having tea with Kagura and Rin when Shigure finally breaks. "Tohru-chan, my flower," he begins, before a fierce, protective glower from Kagura forces him to change tactics. "Tohru-kun, could I have a moment? I wanted to talk to you about something."

Tohru follows him into the kitchen. When the other two girls follow, looking as menacing as that crazy denpa girl and the yankee, he starts to think he was an idiot to wait until now. If Yuki and Kyo were guarding her, he'd only have to fear for his door, not his life and manhood.

"Er..." he begins, looking meaningfully at Tohru's shadows.

"Yes, Shigure-nii?" Rin asks sweetly, but her smile is cold. He wonders how much his face gives away, and if he should just give this up now. Aya and Ha-kun will laugh at him if he does, though, so he soldiers bravely onward.

"I'm asking Tohru-kun, mind," he warns them, feeling like an absolute idiot. "Tohru-kun, you've seen them all and, objectively speaking, who has the best?" He had thought growing up in an all-boys school with Aya had made him immune to blushing; judging by the heat in his cheeks, that was far, far from true. Stupid Aya, bringing this up and making him so curious. After all, they already knew whose was biggest: but women were always going on about how that wasn't everything, so... dammit, Aya. His cheeks warmed another few degrees.

With a growl, Kagura prepared to launch herself at him and give him a beating to rival Kyo's customary one. Rin was faster: one elegant hand grabbed the back of Kagura's dress, and the other slipped around Tohru to cover the blushing, stammering girl's mouth. Her face was decidedly dangerous as she met Shigure's eyes. "Momiji," she told him, seeming utterly serious. "You can't hope to compare."

The she turned and force marched the other two back to their tea, kicking the kitchen door closed behind her. Shigure was left behind, blushing and uncertain for the first time in years.

Tohru, too, was blushing furiously. Later that night, hidden in her room where no one could see her blush, she finally considered the question. Her cheeks glowing more furiously as she considered each case, she finally came to a startling conclusion: Rin had been absolutely right.

* * *

_Next, another attempt at a canon pairing: Aya and Mine._


	16. At First Sight

_No random prompt for this one, although the pairing was suggested by WitchMagpie.  
_

* * *

**At First Sight  
**

Sometimes she's 'that cute little girl at the back.' More often, they say she's weird, with her costumes and ever-changing styles. But despite her loud clothes, she's a quiet girl, so when she overhears them, she blushes, lowers her eyes, and keeps walking. She knows they're right, and she's strange for dressing up, but she likes it, so however much she blushes, and makes excuses, and apologizes, she won't stop.

They've been drawing fruit for a week, and Mine's bored with it. They were drawing glasses on velvet drapes before that, and that was alright. Her wine glasses tended to be a bit lopsided, and didn't have much depth, but she liked drawing the fabric, and the velvet in her drawings was beautiful and perfect. The teacher said it looked like it was about to spill off the page if the sketchbook was jostled. "Fix those glasses," she said in her kind, teacher-like way, "and you'll really have something."

But the fruit... the fruit was boring. It was round and colorful, and that was it. "No, no, Mine," the teacher kept telling her patiently, "look at it. It's not round at all." Mine thought it was close enough, so what did it matter? Still, fruit aside, she enjoyed this class, so she was only a bit downcast as she set up her sketchpad and pencils and prepared for another day full of fruit.

"Good morning class," the teacher called from the front of the room, her expressive voice contrasting sharply with her plain clothes. Mine wished the teacher would dress a bit more like she acted: she was certain sensei's boyfriend wouldn't keep blowing her off if she did. Or she'd find a better boyfriend. "I know it's a bit of a change from fruit, but we're going to start life studies today." Trees, Mine thought in resignation. Or someone's pet cat. 'Life studies' was, after all, such a general term, and a class that struggled with fruit couldn't possibly be ready for people. "Our usual model quit, and his replacement was only available this week, so... oh!"

"The usual dressing gown was so plain, I brought my own," announced a voice from the doorway. Mine, and every other member of the class, jerked around to look at the speaker. She had an impression of pale skin and long, silky hair, but what held her attention was the dressing gown; it was gorgeous.

Rich plum silk had been personally tailored and hand-sewed into a masterpiece that put shame to the name 'dressing gown'. It's lines were perfect; the seams sat just so; the cut drew the eye along the length of it's wearer's graceful limbs, smoothing out every imperfection. Glossy black and purple threads were embroidered into the fabric, creating swirling, elegant patterns that emphasized the perfection of the shape underneath the fabric.

Mine was in love. She squirmed in her seat, waiting for the model to take their place on the stage, so that she could start drawing that perfection that had been so crassly called a dressing gown. How could anyone call that piece of art something so common? she wondered.

"Oh, Ayame-san," the teacher said, blushing so hard even her giggle was pink. "Welcome. If you could... that is... on the stage?"

"Of course, sensei." Ayame-san's voice was as smooth as the silk of the robe. "I'll just sit here, then." Ayame-san sat on the teacher's desk with a charming smile. Elegant legs were stretched just so, graceful arms artfully arranged, the top of the robe allowed to fall away to reveal pale shoulders and a long expanse of perfectly sculpted chest.

A glance around the room showed Mine that every single student was blushing as much as the teacher. "He's so handsome," a girl near her breathed. A guy a few seats away sounded strangled when he gasped, "That's a guy?"

For the first time, Mine actually looked at the model. The bishonen reclined on sensei's desk was, she realized, more than just a frame for that work of art he'd crudely termed a dressing gown: he, too, was a masterpiece. More than that, she realized, he'd chosen a pose that not only showed himself off to his full advantage, but the robe as well. Maybe he wasn't so bad, if he knew how wonderful the garment was.

"Feel free to begin," Ayame-san said breezily, because the teacher didn't seem able to say anything.

That evening, Ayame took advantage of Sakura-sensei's distraction to look through the students' sketchbooks. Here was one that highlighted his hair, here one that centered on his eyes. Another played up the bared expanse of his chest. His mouth twisted slight, although a watcher wouldn't have been able to tell if it was from amusement or contempt.

He stopped on one sketchbook. It was almost like he was absent from the drawing; the man in the sketch was only a hazy, elegant outline behind the richness of the dressing gown. The artist had caught the way the embroidery played with the light, and how the expensive fabric pooled so beautifully. "I think I'm in love," he murmured.

* * *

_Next is probably Kyo x Tohru x Yuki, but it's no more than a hazy idea right now, so maybe don't count on it.  
_


	17. Perfect Peace

_And, finally, I'm back. I had no time to think, let alone write, over the summer, and I've been insanely busy, plus writer's block, since I got back to school. Things should hopefully settle by November. But since a caffeine-induced late night writing session produced not one but two pieces, things might be moving again. Also, I finally noticed that the italics didn't show up in Silver-Tongued and Destiny - the words haven't changed, but it might be a bit clearer now.  
_

* * *

**Perfect Peace**

The problem with threesomes was not internal jealousies. There was no question of what role each person played, or how they all fit together, or what each meant to the others. All that important stuff that normally gave rise to angst and conflict were well sorted out. No, the problem - and if Shigure ever figured it out, he'd kill himself laughing at them - was finding a bed that was big enough for all three of them to sleep in.

_Kyo woke with a grunt, no longer able to ignore the elbow digging into his side. Damn the stupid mouse for being so bony. If he was soft like Tohru... well, that would just be weird, actually. Fine: if he didn't move around in his sleep so much, things would go a lot smoother. But anyone who believed there could ever be smooth sailing between the cat and the rat was delusional (he loved Tohru, but she was completely out of touch with reality sometimes). They managed, of course, but _smooth _wasn't the way to describe things. Unless you were describing Yuki's skin..._

Yuki and Kyo could have turned into animals, of course, and they would have all fit very easily into Tohru's bed. But that would have made other things difficult. And, as humans, they could only just fit all three of them into most beds, which meant they had to lie perfectly still in case Tohru accidentally got too close to one of them.

_... Yuki's very bare skin. It had been raining out - a cold, freezing rain that turned to sleet, then snow, as they raced home from school, then to protect the garden, then into the house dripping and shivering. There had been hot baths for everyone; separate hot baths, because while it would have been nice to bathe together, things would have warmed up in an entirely different way. It was probably _possible _to have sex - after all, the last cat had a grandson, which logically meant he'd had children, which meant he'd had... anyway. It was just risky, more because Shigure was in the house than because of the curse._

So they slept together where they could - on the roof in the sunshine, on the tatami mats in the living room, on pushed-together futons on the rare occasion they went away to an _onsen_ without Shigure. They'd sprawl together, Tohru's head on Yuki's stomach, Kyo curled in the triangle between their hips. Sometimes ankles would hook together; hands roamed, finding other hands or settling in hair.

_He considered elbowing Yuki back, or maybe shoving him towards Tohru - that would get rid of the stupid elbows and, as an added bonus, put him next to Tohru. He really had no idea how the stupid mouse had grabbed the middle - somehow, he had a knack for it, and got it every time (although sometimes he gave it up to Tohru). Kyo never got the middle, but he was never left out. _

It was the most comfortable when all three of them were there. Otherwise, it felt empty. There was too much space when there was only two people - more, even, than when there was only one. Two left a hole: only with three was it filled. It was safest with three, the most comfortable. That was why they took every chance they could find to be together like this, sleepy and comfortable and relaxed.

_Grumbling silently to himself, he gently moved Yuki's elbow out of the way and cuddled closer to the other boy. In fighting, distance was all-important: to avoid being hit, you had to either be back where they couldn't reach you, or so close that they had no room to hit you. This wasn't a fight, exactly - but it was still a contest, although Kyo could never be sure what the rules were. _

They'd never let Shigure find out, though. The dog was loud, disreputable. He'd take this perfect time and tease them and put it in his perverted novels, changing it from something wonderful to something sinful and wrong. That's something they can't allow, so they'll keep slipping away, finding quiet places to steal a little piece of solitude and perfection.

_Yuki murmured something in his sleep - Kyo thought it might have been about fish - and tightened his arm around Kyo's back. More comfortable now, the cat drifted back to sleep, content._

* * *

_Next up is Arisa (almost Arisa x Kureno, but not really)._


	18. Objective Opinion

_Oh man. I churned out like four of these in two days, posted the first two and then, because I was having trouble with the fourth (Tohru x Momiji) the third has been sitting on my computer for like a month and I, somehow, completely forgot about it. I guess I've kind of fallen away from the Fruits Basket fandom lately... perhaps because I haven't watched the anime in so long. And I know, the manga is great, but it gets very psychological at around... the beginning, actually, and I really, really can't stomach 23 volumes of angst, no matter how much I adore the characters. So, yeah, my personal view of the Fruits Basket manga is: characters, great, love them, they're the reason I'm in this fandom; canon plot, dear god no, make it stop, why can't they just stuff Yuki into a dress like and laugh like they do in the anime? But that's just me grumbling, and is actually really irrelevant and making this AN way too long. Thanks for sticking with me. -Adali_

* * *

**Objective Opinion**

If she were asked to rank them - and no one would ask, but if they ever had - Arisa thought she'd met enough of the Sohma's to manage a decent list. Oh, she hadn't met all the Sohma's, not by a long shot - there were as many of them as there were cherry blossoms in spring, it seemed, and they were just as pretty, if a little less normal.

Especially that Shigure guy. There were some weird things going on in that man's head, that was for sure. Sometimes Arisa worried about leaving cute little Tohru in the same house as him. But she's also met Hatori - a man with whom she was on exactly the same wavelength as when it came to what was appropriate between Tohru and Shigure (which is to say, he had better not even dream of thinking about touching her). Besides, she's seen Shigure act responsible - not often, but often enough to know that he can. Tohru's probably safe where she is, although hopefully she doesn't end up a bit weird like them.

She'd almost reconsidered her stance on the matter, though, when that girl Kagura told her about what Shigure had said last week. How could he ask sweet, innocent Tohru something like that? But Rin had dealt with it well enough, she'd heard, so she didn't have to go and make sure Shigure would always come dead last on any list of that kind.

Besides, she had her own suspicions about why he'd asked that. Oh, he claimed it was because Ayame had mentioned it, but that excuse was entirely suspect in Arisa's mind. She thought that, instead, it ought to prompt a different ranking: of all those Sohmas, who was the gayest?

Supposedly (that is, according to Tohru) they were all straight. Shigure was a womanizer; Hatori had been engaged at one point; Ayame, Hatsuharu, and even _Ritsu _had girlfriends. That guy Hiro was chasing after little Kira, but they were too young to really be in the running anyway. But those older ones... well, being involved with a woman didn't make you entirely straight. Arisa had seen enough in her (admittedly still fairly short) life to make her peace with it. It was high time the Sohmas did the same.

Shigure, she thought, probably went both ways. He was no _gay_, per se; he seemed to enjoy playing around, and didn't seem to care which side he played for as long as he was amused. It wouldn't even surprise her if he had some weird animal kink - like a snake fetish. For a guy like him, it would seem perfectly normal. No, Shigure was definitely not the gayest, although he was certainly the most _something_.

In contrast to his cousin and close friend, Hatori seemed to be quite selective about whom he cared about. As far as Arisa had heard, four people had made it on that list: Shigure and Ayame (who knew why), Tohru, and the ex-fiancée whose name she'd never heard. If Shigure would have sex with anything, Hatori... well, he'd come around one day. So, not gay: repressed.

Ayame? Now there was a contender. Anyone who was comfortable in dresses - hell, who ponced around every day in robes that looked like dresses - naturally had some points on the camp scale. She wanted to classify him as gay, but somehow was unable to. He wasn't androgynous, nor a hermaphrodite (she was sure she would have heard about it) but somehow he fell somewhere between the two, if such a thing were possible. He just fit with either sex. Which, technically, should have made him bi, but... somehow, when she thought about it (although she tried not to, or at least not too often) whichever sort of relationship he ended up in automatically became straight. Ayame, therefore, was not gay - he was a headache.

That eliminated the three most likely to have a gay threesome from the list of contenders. Hiro was automatically off - he was too young to be sure. Momiji... that kid fell somewhere between Ayame and Hiro: young (although not as young as he looked) but somehow... a headache. Male or female, anyone with a lolita-complex would adore the boy but... Arisa didn't like to think about that sort of thing. She'd seen things when she was in the gangs, heard far more than she cared to remember and, well, suffice to say that while it might have broadened her horizons in some things, it had made her damn sure she would never tolerate others. Momiji wasn't allowed on the list.

His shadow, Hatsuharu on the other hand, was a definite contender (since he didn't only act his age, he acted older). He was with Rin, but chased Yuki... a contender. Yuki was a contender too - he shared Ayame's effeminate looks, but none of the graces which placed him beyond definition.

Oh yeah, and there was Carrot-top too, but he was so emotionally awkward that Arisa cringed at the thought of him being with anyone. Especially Tohru, which is the direction he seemed to be leaning. That brat was a hundred years too early for someone as special as Tohru. He wasn't allowed to compete (not that any of them knew there was a competition) because he was a stupid Orange-head.

So: Yuki or Hatsuharu. Points to Hatsuharu for the way he dressed. Points to Yuki for looking like a girl, and never having a girlfriend (eyeing up Tohru didn't count). Points to Hatsuharu for hitting on Yuki; points to Yuki for blushing. Bonus points to Yuki for having Ayame as a brother.

Ranking complete: definitely Yuki, even if he didn't know it (he probably didn't).

"What about Kureno?" Hana-chan asked, not looking up from her book (one of Shigure's smutty novels, from the looks of it).

Arisa glared at her. "I'm not letting him compete."


	19. The Space Between

_Only two months between updates. That's almost not completely horrible (for me). I know I sort of implied the next one would be Tohru x Momiji, but I just can't make it work for some reason. Whereas this one (Shigure x Saki) was a pairing suggested by Gwen the Kakashi Obsesser, and it came to me in the middle of the night when my brain would not shut up and let me sleep. I've been working on some darker, more adult-themed stuff lately, and it kind of shows in this. I have also been drinking too much coffee, and that's probably obvious too. I'm thinking I can pull off maybe two more in this fandom (I think I've just about exhausted my inspiration) so if there's any pairing you desperately, desperately want to see in the final two, let me know, and who knows? I want to finish this series on a strong point, after all. -Adali_

* * *

**The Space Between  
**

The sky was the deep, fathomless black of three in the morning, unmarred by errant clouds. Stars cut through the blackness like knives; despite their harsh brilliance they did nothing to illuminate the sky. Outside the window, Shigure could see thick drifts of snow but they, too, seemed black, despite their purity in reflecting the moon's stark light. He wondered, fleetingly, if the landscape would seem as harsh and unnatural to someone who could see colours: their inferior night vision might blur the edges of the world, making it beautiful and clean rather than jagged and alien. He took another drag of his cigarette and kept his eyes fixed, very deliberately, outside the window.

His eyes refused to acknowledge her, but his ears still noted her soft, steady breathing, and his nose twinged at her scent - spicy, dark and foreign in the familiar sanctuary of his bedroom. He'd taken up smoking to dull the acuity of his sense of smell, but even after years of the habit he still picked up more than any human. It was a part of his curse that no one but another junishi - and few enough of them - would understand. His heightened senses picked up things others couldn't comprehend: it was like being able to see another colour spectrum that was invisible to everyone else, one that let him see into the past and the emotions of those around him.

Great knowledge bred superiority, and he wondered sometimes if his resulting arrogance was what prevented him from having a real relationship with anyone. Ha-kun might seem remote, but he had a kind heart, and people could sense that. Aya was flamboyant to the point of ridiculousness, but he had an undeniable charisma. But Shigure... he appeared amiable, but anyone who knew him could sense the dark, vicious intelligence behind his lazy facade, even though he doubted anyone but Ha-kun and Aya understood it for what it was.

He took another drag of the cigarette. Perhaps they weren't the only ones, now. The woman - girl, really, though the only thing she was young in was years - asleep in his bed knew, he didn't doubt. She was another one who saw things others didn't, but unlike Shigure she made no effort to hide it. She'd never have the multitude of empty friendships and passing acquaintances that Shigure did, but what relationships she did have would be genuine. Shigure couldn't have said if her way was better or not.

She murmured in her sleep and turned over. Awake, she was all poise and control, but she couldn't hide the dark horrors in her mind when she slept, and the nightmares made her a difficult bed-mate. Shigure never bothered trying to sleep when she stayed over, though she didn't know it. There was nothing to be gained in telling her, either. If she knew, she'd probably find somewhere else to sleep - with Tohru, perhaps, whose presence seemed to soothe her dreams, or in her own home. But that wouldn't be right.

This... thing... that they had was not about the sex: if it had been, he wouldn't have bothered keeping her here afterwards. It wasn't about romance either: in that case, he would probably have found a way to sleep with her regardless of her nightmares. At least, that's what one of the heroes in his books would likely have done and, though they were complete fabrications and lies, they were Shigure's only reference as to what Romance looked like. No, this was about... not companionship, but an _alliance_.

If he'd been writing a book - hell, no _if _about it, the whole thing appeared in his latest novel - he would have been the dark mastermind and she a powerful sorceress. In the end she would betray their alliance to help the true friends she found among the heroes, but for now... for now mutual understanding was enough. Misunderstood outsiders couldn't be picky in their company, after all. He gave a small, bitter laugh, and was answered by a soft murmur from the sleeping woman.

No, people like them couldn't afford to turn away any companionship. But they could dream, and until that impossible day when their wishes came true, they would get on with what they had. And what they had, here in reality but not in his novelization - was someone with whom they shared more in common than was at first apparent. They were allied not just in the depth of their perception, but in the barrier to the fulfillment of their desire, and their regard of a certain sweet - but incredibly dense - girl.

To put it in terms of the novelization: he, the sweet and kind heroine's wicked uncle (who nonetheless quite doted on his niece) was banging her foster-mother. The wicked uncle was in love - but also at war - with an Empress, and the foster-mother was in love with one of the Empress's guards - a woman who was besotted with the Empress's favorite (male) concubine. The poor, innocent heroine only wanted everyone to get along: which they would, Shigure thought bitterly, if that blasted concubine was taken out of the picture.

In other words: life would be a lot easier for everyone if that bloody brat Kureno just disappeared. But darling Tohru-chan wouldn't like that, because... well, because she was Tohru-chan, and therefore naturally opposed to unhappiness for anyone. And, somehow, bastard though he knew himself to be, Shigure couldn't bring himself to disappoint her on that point.

_Bloody hell, _he thought, stubbing out his cigarette. If only real life could have the same sort of mutually-beneficial, uplifting ending that the book had. Except for the part about the wicked uncle's unavoidable downfall, because _someone _had to get their just comeuppance. Shigure rather objected to the idea of being vanquished. So for now... he settled back in his chair and turned his full attention to the vicious landscape outside... for now things would stay as they were. He'd take what he could get, and take out his frustration in his books and in his bed. And maybe one day - _hah, unlikely_ - there'd be a miracle.

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_Stealth edit AN: Although it's never explicitly said, this piece is Shigure x Saki, with a bit of implied, one-sided Shigure x Akito and Saki x Uo and mention of Akito x Kureno and Uo x Kureno. Plus guest appearance by Tohru. Hope that helps, if you're a bit confused. _


	20. Boom, Like That

_I thought I wasn't writing in Fruits Basket anymore - as evidenced by how long it took to update this. But apparently I was wrong. Pairing was suggested, many moons ago, by loretta537. "Boom, Like That" is a Mark Knopfler song which has absolutely nothing to do with the story, except the phrase sort of fits. -Adali_

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**Boom, Like That**

He's always looked like he could own a club, and at last he finally does. They're standing on the catwalk above what used to be an old warehouse in a run-down industrial district near the docks, but is now one of the most famous clubs in the city and in the middle of a bustling entertainment area. He's shirtless, but the long jacket he wears reveals only a thin, tantalizing strip of bare skin. Its thick fur collar - real? fake? impossible to say - doesn't look out of place despite the cloying summer heat, and that only goes to show how amazing he is. The goggles that nestle in his white and black hair should look strange, too, but instead they've become a trademark, and there's rumours that goggles will be the in-thing next season, as everyone tries to emulate him. He's young - just barely twenty - and gorgeous and completely in his element.

She, on the other hand, feels strange and out-of-place. Her yellow sundress would be more appropriate for running errands in town or working in the garden with Yuki than for a night in the heady, exotic world of the club. She's not a little girl, but she still ties her hair back with ribbons, and right now it's sticking uncomfortably to the back of her neck. It's all she can do to stop herself from sending up a prayer of apology to her mother, because Kyoko would have loved this, and would even now have been down there in the middle of the throng.

Hatsuharu catches her eye, and grins at her. Sometime - she didn't notice when, he's turned into Black Haru, and his eyes glitter with mischief and seduction and something else that she can't quite name. It terrifies her and thrills her all at once. "What do you think?" he shouts over the booming, echoing beat.

Tohru looks down over the writhing mass of bodies. It's sensual and erotic, but terrifying for her, who lives in a house where physical contact used to be a thing to fear, and is still uncomfortable. It makes her feel little and naive, because even though she lives with three men and has for years, they've always treated her as their flower, their princess, something to be handled with kid gloves and sheltered from this aspect of the world. "It's..." she begins, and doesn't know how to continue.

"Want to dance?" he asks. He's moved closer, but he still has to yell, and for a moment she thinks she's misheard him anyway. But she hasn't, and he's waiting expectantly, watching her with his deep eyes. No, yes, I don't know... she doesn't know which answer will come out if she opens her mouth, so she doesn't move. She just stares back at him and Haru - sweet, understanding Haru, who is still such a mystery to her - seems to understand everything she's feeling. He takes her hand gently, and leads her along the catwalk towards the stairs that will take them into the teeming mass below.

She squeezes his hand nervously. "I don't think I can do this, Haru-san." But of course he can't hear her over the music that pulses, now quick now slow, through her, seeming to carry her heartbeat with it. He flashes her a smile that's as dazzling as the lights that flicker across the crowd, and just as disorientating. It's special and sexy and seemingly just for her, but of course that can't be. This is Haru, after all, and the only reason he invited her tonight is because he wants everybody - even someone dopey and awkward like her - to share the success of his new club with him. Momiji's here somewhere, too: she saw him dancing on the stage earlier, golden and beautiful and surrounded by girls who adored him, but now that they're at ground-level she can't see him anymore. Ayame and Shigure said they were coming by later, too. So there's no reason for her to think that Haru's smile is for her - it's for all of them, but most of all for himself, and for his success that they're celebrating tonight.

The flash of the club lights on the lenses of his goggles is like a neon sign, drawing attention to them. Bodies shift to let him pass as he leads her towards the center of the dance floor, even as others press forwards, hoping for a word with Sohma Hatsuharu-sama himself. Here he is lord and emperor, and his subjects treat him as such. Tohru follows in his wake, bumped and jostled and ignored, or watched with thoughtful, speculative eyes.

At last they're in the very thickest part of the crowd, and he stops. She's being jostled from all sides, as dancers wiggle and pulse around them, as though they were no more than extensions of the music that fills everything. Haru pulls her close, pressing her against him. Hips and elbows still bump into her from behind, but she feels like she's surrounded by the solid, stable wall of his body. He's filling her senses: he looms in her sight, lit by the irregular flashes of the club's lights; her nose is filled with the scent of him, sharp sweat and musky boy; and all around her - hot and beautiful and captivating - his karate-strong body pressed against hers.

He's swaying to the music, but she's too terrified to move. "Relax." It's like a murmur in her ear, even though he's shouting. She tries: tries to let her muscles relax, tries to sway in time with him, but it's not working. The steady beat that pulses all around them seems to jerk and lag, going too fast or too slow, and she can't catch it. Her body moves awkwardly against his, and she's inexplicably terrified, but mostly she's just mortified that she can't manage this simple thing.

Haru-san laughs. She feels it as a tremor that shudders through his body and into hers, while the sound is snatched away by the heavy music. Before she has time to be embarrassed, his lips crash into hers. It's sweet and heady and powerful, like everything about the club that has overwhelmed her has been distilled golden honey that paints her lips and tongue. It's intoxicating. She can't help but press against him, wanting more of that glorious taste. Her heartbeat drums in her ears.

She bites back a protest when he starts to pull away, but he doesn't leave her completely. His lips linger on hers, but she's no longer so overwhelmed as to be insensitive to everything else. He's still moving against her, gently, and she's moving as well, in time to the beat that isn't her heart, as she thought, but the music. The pounding of the bass seems slower, now, but that's because her heart is beating twice as fast.

He grins at her - that special, sexy grin that really is just for her after all - and says something. The music's as loud as it's ever been, so his voice can't reach her ears, but she hears him anyway. "Just like that."

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_But anyway, that's Tohru x Haru. I'm still open to challenges, by the way - I'm just not promising to meet any deadlines._


	21. Number 21

To my darling readers:

Before we begin the madness: this chapter is rated **M**, as in, if you aren't old enough to look at naked pictures without blushing as red as a tomato, you aren't old enough to read this. Go away - kink will still be around when you're older.

That said, I need my brain scrubbed, because for a while I was wondering if this was PG-13.

Again: despite what the rest of this series might lead you to believe, **this is not for kiddies.** I have done all that I can. If you're brain hurts after this, it's your own damn fault.

Also, this needs a title. Any suggestions would be most welcome.

Much love,

_Adali_

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**Untitled**

He's a bastard. In the proper sense, too, but mostly when people say it they mean that he's an asshole. Which he is, and he'll be the first to admit. Some people think he's joking, because he'll often say it right up front: I'm not really interested in you, I'm just bored; I'm just using you to accomplish my own goals; I don't actually care what you do. They think he's just playing, because no one actually says things like that. Except that Shigure does.

People might not realize it at the time, but when Shigure says something, it's because he means it. It doesn't matter if what he's saying is, "I don't care who I hurt, as long as I can achieve that," or, "I really want to see Tohru in a French maid uniform."

He's really not joking: he wants to see her in that cute little black dress, with its lacy white apron and starched cap. Silk stockings, smoothly encasing those slender legs from delicate ankle to just below the hem of that tantalizingly short dress. High, high heels, that make those legs seem impossibly long. He wants to trace his way up those legs, touching and licking, until he reaches the top...

He's a kinky bastard, too, and he'll admit that just as readily. There's no embarrassment left, after you've been in some of the positions Shigure's been in - especially not if you liked being there.

Spanking, for instance. One day he catches Hatsuharu watching porn: he comes in right as the couple on the screen are really get into it, whaling on each other's bare asses with hands and paddles and whatever else they can lay their hands on. He waits, watching quietly until it gets to the point where Hatsuharu's head should be just about to explode - really, teenage boys and cheap porn are both so predictable - then says, "It's much better if you spank them other places, too." Then he saunters out, whistling, knowing that Hatsuharu is twenty kinds of embarrassed and will never live this down. The poor kid is probably so traumatized he'll never dare try that himself, now.

But spanking, Shigure figures, is hardly a kink at all. Everyone does it. (He said as much to Ren and, although she slapped him soundly for it, it was definitely worth it.) Bondage, now... but even that's become mainstream. For a junishi like him, it even makes sense: tie the girl up, and she won't be able to squirm about and inadvertently hug you, because then it would be bestiality, and... well, yeah, Shigure's done that too.

Ayame's got a thing with snakes, and snakes are sexy (as is Ayame), and they were sixteen and randy and stupid... luckily, Ayame warned him before he let that poisonous one get too close to his dick. Oh, sure, Ayame said he could have just sucked the poison out afterwards, but it still would have been sore and throbbing, and not at all a good ending to a very, very hot evening.

He's done the threesome thing. It makes him laugh, how the teenagers that share his house all dance around the topic with each other. Maybe they'll end up that way, maybe they won't - they're still easily embarrassed, after all. What would he say to them, anyway? "It's hotter than hell, but pay attention to where the girl sticks her boobs, in case you transform"? That'd probably get him kicked through the wall or pounded into the floor. It's something to think about, though, because Shigure learned that lesson the hard way. It was damn lucky Hatori was there (and hadn't he given Shigure an earful about it later) or the whole family would have been in big trouble. Seven witnesses with the same story... someone might actually have believed it.

And fetishes... he's done those too. Leather? Rin looks hot in leather. She looks even hotter afterwards, when the sharp marks from Shigure's teeth are imprinted in the leather like a brand. Somewhere deep inside every dog is a wolf that's waiting to get out - the one inside Shigure comes roaring to the surface when he sees something that can only be prey... really, it's a good thing Rin wears all that leather, since it saves her from having to explain the bite marks.

Or silk? Akito never wears anything else. It's expensive and refined - beautiful, even. Some days, Shigure likes to stroke it, and the skin beneath which shares nearly the same texture. Other days, he rips it apart, as though destroying Akito's clothes will destroy the godly bonds which hold her.

And satin and velvet? As though Ayame would let him reach twenty without trying it out. His favourite part of them, though, is that they serve as the perfect distraction for Ayame - get him talking about his favourite fabrics, and he'll shut up about everything else for hours. You'll still have to listen to him talk shop, though, so that tactic is something of a last resort.

Blindfolds and disguises... he quite liked those, but then, he's always liked anything that played to his imagination. He's a writer, after all. And they say that depriving one sense heightens the others. Shigure's a dog, so his eyes are already his weakest sense: depriving him of sight allows him to better appreciate the subtle sounds and intoxicating perfumes of sex as no one else can.

Feet? Well... that wasn't him, exactly. One of the girls he fooled around with in college had a thing for his feet, and if she got that hot for them, Shigure wasn't going to argue.

Blood, now... blood has never really been his thing. Shigure's squeemish by nature, and doesn't like the sight of blood, especially his own. There's something undeniably fascinating about watching it slowly swell, then run off in drops, leaving faint pink trails behind, though. And the adrenaline kick from even the smallest cut leaves him dizzy and gasping. But still, he's not much for the blood. That was always more Hatori's thing.

Older women, younger women... incest, rape fantasies, cross-dressing, cheating, cosplay and role-play and toys and water-sports and... yeah. Liked some, loved some, could have done without certain others (although Shigure firmly believes in valuing every experience, even the ones that make you want to scrubs yourself with sandpaper and bleach to get the dirt out). If there's a position he hasn't tried at least once, then it's probably not physically possible - but he's still willing to try.

Shigure spent some time with a girl, once, who wanted to test that claim. Or maybe she just got off on the sort of thing, and was hoping Shigure would indulge her. Whatever. Licking his own balls didn't bother Shigure - dogs do it all the time, and when you come right down to it, it's just skin like everywhere else - but she really seemed to like it. Seemed pretty shocked that he was flexible enough for it, too, but Shigure has Ayame to thank for that. Sparring with Ayame when your joints _aren't_ the consistency of cooked spaghetti almost guarantees that you're going to have something ripped out of place - and Shigure likes all his limbs properly attached, thank you.

He makes no secret of any of this. But the weird thing - and Shigure really can't figure it out - is that the only reason Kyo and Yuki call him a pervert is because he sings his little song about high school girls. It's like they don't believe he'd really do any of the other stuff, and just think he's saying it to get a rise out of them.

And if he's being honest - which Shigure always is, in his own way - then Shigure will admit that although he's tried all that, the only reason he tells them about it is to see their reactions. That's why he'll actually buy a maid outfit for Tohru, instead of just imagining her in one, and why he'll make insinuations to Kyo, and stuff Yuki into dresses. Because of everything, the thing that turns Shigure on the most is messing with people's heads - and they are just too easy.


End file.
